In the Land of Sweetwater
by anna.who.was.mad
Summary: Summer. 1957. Sixteen year old Isabella is unexpectedly thrown into the unforgiving hive of wealth and excess that is Sweetwater, Virginia. When she befriends a beautiful boy with shadows of his own, the two uncover a shocking web of lies that irrevocably tie them together.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: This began as my NaNoWriMo 2016 project. I wanted to try something new.**

 **In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Chapter One:**

 **Watching the World Burn**

June of 1957 came in with a heat wave as bad as any I could remember. I had just turned sixteen and instead of preparing to finish high school, I found a job at the general store in town running the cash register for Frank Walters. I was quick with numbers and always had a smile, so he stuck me up front. At least, that's what he said. Truth is, I was never one to smile much.

The path to Walters' General Store was a familiar one I'd pedaled many times in the years since I won my bicycle in a local raffle. Mama took full advantage and wouldn't hesitate to send me down the road with enough change to get her a pack of smokes if needed. My daddy worked at the store too before he went off and died in the war when I was two years old. I was certain my daddy and not my smile was the reason Frank gave me a job in the first place. Either way, I was grateful to make that dollar an hour. With each shift I was closer to a new-to-me car so I could get to a city that offered better wages.

"Weather's looking like it's going to take a turn. Why don't you get on out of here early," Frank said as he closed the front door.

"Alright," I said. I had an hour left of my shift, but I was so bored and hot I didn't mind losing a dollar. "Hopefully the rain will cool things off."

"You're telling me. Few more months of this and the town'll melt," he said as he counted out five dollar bills from the register and handed them over to me.

"I'm leaving early. I should only get four dollars."

He laughed at me. "You're too honest for your own good, Izzy. Consider it payment for helping me sweep out the backroom earlier."

"Thank you, Frank."

"You're very welcome."

Frank was right. The wind was blowing something fierce by the time I crossed over Scuttle Creek, the halfway point home. Mama and I didn't have much at all in our four room house out in no man's land. While some girls at school were dreaming about a kiss from Elvis Presley, I was dreaming about having indoor plumbing someday. I wasn't the only one I knew who had to use an outhouse and hand pump water to boil for a bath, but it was still a sore spot for me. I wore poverty like a scarlet letter across my chest and I hated every second of it. Instead of moving us in town to a nicer place, Mama spent all the money she made on new dresses, cosmetics, and her running tab at the tavern. Everyone knew Renee Higginbotham was a loose war widow, much to my embarrassment.

Mama looked an awful lot like Grace Kelly, and at the age of thirty-two, she still had youth on her side. She always told me to stay out of the sun so I wouldn't lose my complexion, but I never listened. It wasn't quite summer yet and I already had a glow from my bicycle rides to work and back. Mama had a car, an old one, but it still ran just fine. She baked bread for a living when she wasn't drinking. She had many jobs over the years, but the bakery seemed to stick. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn she took that job because no one would have noticed her stale liquor smell with the ovens going all the time.

She didn't care when I told her I was giving up schooling to go to work. Mama simply told me it was about time I started pulling my weight around the house. Our house was little more than a shack, but it was a roof over my head no matter how ashamed of it I was. On nights it was too hot to sleep, I'd sit on the small front porch with a glass of tea and dream what it would be like to be one of those girls with their new clothes and private bathrooms in a big house. What it would be like to have one of those boys with slicked back hair and pressed pants buy me a malt like I saw in magazines.

My reality had its own cruel way of pulling me out of such foolish thoughts.

I let my scuffed shoes drag in the dirt as I neared our driveway. It was a little gravel road that bent around a big rock formation, so I was surprised when I came around the curve and saw a shiny black Cadillac parked near the porch next to my mama's old tin can Ford. My heart did a funny little twist seeing that car because I knew without a doubt it didn't belong to any of the regular men Mama kept company with. I'd seen it once about a week before along with the man who drove it when he stopped in at Walter's for a pack of Camels. I knew he was just passing through, probably on his way to Sweetwater I guessed from the suit and hat he wore.

"You need to get out of here before she gets home," I heard my mama hiss from the open front room window. Something told me to get out of sight, so I ducked down near Mama's car.

"Don't make me get the law involved, Renee."

"What good would that do? She's damn near grown no thanks to you!"

"I didn't know. All these damned lies."

"May she rest in peace, but your demon of a mother shooed me off the porch like I was a raccoon rooting through the garbage."

"Oh yes, she shooed you off the porch right after handing you an envelope of money."

"What else was I supposed to do, Charles? I was fifteen, alone, and in a family way. That money and marrying Phil are what kept me alive."

"What did you do with the money?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I used it to get a car and for living expenses after Phil died. He didn't know about it."

"Why didn't you tell me? You didn't stop to think I'd want to know about my own child?"

"How was I supposed to get all the way over to Massachusetts when I could barely make it to Sweetwater?" Mama cried.

I heard a growl, the kind a grown man makes when he's at his wit's end. "You can't blame me for not being here when I had no idea. This isn't my fault and I don't think any judge is going to find me at fault, either. There's no excuse, Renee. None. A child isn't something to bargain with and no amount of money should have bought your silence. You'll be hearing from me again very soon and don't you dare think about running off with her."

"Charles..."

"No, Renee. And do yourself a favor and lay off the bottle. I can smell you from over here. "

My heart was pounding and my stomach was flopping around like a fish out of water as I scrambled to hide behind the outhouse and the lilac bush that grew near it. I thought I'd been found out as the man, Charles, looked over to where I hid, but he scratched his thick black eyebrow and walked to his car without looking back.

It's like I couldn't take a breath deep enough to fill my lungs as my mind raced and my knees shook. How could my life turn on a dime like this? I knew my mama was barely sixteen when she had me, but she was married to my daddy. His name was the one on my birth certificate and it was him holding me with the biggest, happiest grin on his face in the family portrait Mama kept in her chest of drawers. So what that my hair and eyes were nearly black while him and Mama were fair-haired and blue-eyed. Not once in my life had I ever questioned what suddenly felt so obvious.

I gave myself a little time to think and for my heart to calm down before I decided this Charles could send all the judges in the state of Virginia my way if he so pleased. Philip Dwyer, though I didn't have a single memory of him, was my father and that was that.

I knew it had to be nearing the time I usually got home when I gathered the courage to leave my hiding spot and face my mother. I had a plan that wholly consisted of not yet saying a word about what I'd witnessed. I was quick to learn my plan was a bad one when I was met with my mother running to her car with her pocketbook in hand. "Mama?"

Her eyes were wide and her cheeks turned red when she looked at me. "What are you doing here?"

I shook my head. "I got home early."

"Oh."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting up with Trudy."

It was completely normal for Mama to be on the go and meeting up with someone, but I felt so awkward with secret information tumbling around in my head. "Alright. Will you be home tonight?" Since I was in grade school, Mama sometimes wouldn't make it home until the next day.

"I'll be home when I get home. You're my daughter, not my mother."

Charles' visit certainly didn't improve her disposition. Mama looked a little pale and twitchy around the edges. I learned a long time ago that usually meant she hadn't had enough to drink for the day and that always made her particularly awful.

"Sorry," I said, because I'd also learned defending myself was useless when she was in one of her moods.

Mama had this way of pinning me down with a look and she did it then, her eyes bloodshot and shimmering with something I wasn't ready to understand. It was all right there on the tip of my tongue, how sick I felt inside because of what I overheard. I was going to say it and make it real for us both, not some vaporous thing floating around us, but she cupped my face in her hands forcefully, her teeth pressing so hard into her bottom lip I had a fleeting thought it would bleed.

"I wish," she started to say, but her voice cracked. I was too afraid to move, too shocked by her touch. After a deep breath she began again. "I wish I knew how to love you."

Her words didn't process in my head, but they sure made my chest cave in. I couldn't say a word as Mama turned away from me and got in her car, the engine heaving before it finally started. My fists were clenched tight at my sides as I stared down at the gravel and counted the pieces to keep myself from exploding. There was a hot lump in my throat and I wasn't sure if I'd sob or scream if I opened my mouth. Did she not love me at all? Is that what she meant?

One foot in front of the other, I walked toward the house as the sound of Mama's car got farther and farther away. The sky opened up as soon as I stepped through the front door of our house. It was all familiar... the constant static of the rain hitting the tin roof with its leaky spot in the back corner. The coal burning stove that made me cough all winter long. The worn out dining table littered with liquor bottles. The pantry that was never full. The big brass bed that was never made when Mama was home. Everything looked the same, but everything was different. I could feel it somehow, like what little life was in the house was sucked out, never to return.

I sat down at the table so I could rest my pounding head on my folded arms. My very existence was a lie and I was too damn tired to think about it. It was hard to want for better when surviving took up all my time and strength. At least I didn't have to wonder where I stood with Mama anymore. That's what I told myself before I noticed the pink envelope sitting on the table with my name written across it. It was stationary I saved up to buy her for her birthday last February. That was a good day. We ate cake she brought home from the bakery and she was a happy drunk that night as if eating all that sugar made her sweeter.

My fingers felt stiff as I opened up the envelope and pulled out a letter along with two dollar bills.

 _Izzy,_

 _I was your age when I had you and I think I did a good job raising you up. It's my time now to live the life I always wanted to before you were born. Things happen sometimes beyond our control and we have to make do with what we are left._

 _When I was fifteen years old, I went into Sweetwater with my daddy while he was on a job. That's where I met Charles Swan. I'll spare you the details, but before I knew it Charles was off to Harvard and I found out I was going to be a mother. Phil worked with my daddy and was sweet on me, so I took the opportunity that was available and married him. He loved you despite knowing you were not his child._

 _Charles wants you. I don't know how he figured it out. His mama was the only one who knew about me and Charles and she hated me with a passion. I was alone and terrified, so I took her for her word when she offered money to me as long as I didn't ever come back with my bastard child. And I didn't._

 _Take a bus to Sweetwater and go to Swan House. It's the largest plantation in all of Sweetwater, maybe all of Virginia, so you won't be able to miss it. I suppose it is your birthright. I never considered Charles would want anything to do with his illegitimate child. We all make mistakes._

 _He wants you and you go ahead and tell him that he has my full permission to take you in. It's for the best._

 _Regards,_

 _Renee_

I was certain I was going to throw up as the word "regards" bounced around inside my skull. There it was in writing, everything she'd never say to me directly. She wasn't meeting up with Trudy. She was making her getaway.

I laughed at her cowardice, but it sounded so mean, not like me. It didn't take a genius to figure out the two dollars she left was bus fare. I was staring at the backs of the bills when the lowest blow hit me right in the gut. On one of the bills in the upper left-hand corner was the number _183_ written lightly in pencil. The same 183 I wrote on it when I added to my savings a few days before. "No, no, no," I chanted as I ran into the bedroom and dug my nails into the lip of the loose floorboard. It was on my side of the bed, just underneath the bed frame. Beneath was a wooden cigar box I'd saved from the trash at Walter's that I kept my savings in. My heart shattered completely when I opened it up to see it was empty.

That... that... _bitch_.

I screamed and crumpled up her letter in my fist and threw that old cigar box right into the mirror of Mama's vanity, cracking it straight down the middle. Anger like I'd never known threatened to swallow me up as I stood and swiped off every perfume bottle and trinket she had sitting pretty in a row on that vanity. Oh, how she loved her perfume bottles. Seeing them shattered all over the floor didn't do much to quell my rage. Thanks to me, she had plenty of money to buy whatever perfume she wanted.

There was nothing I could do with the storm wreaking havoc outside. Without a car or a telephone, not that I had anyone to call, I was stuck for the evening. Hell, I was stuck no matter what. What was I supposed to do – show up at some stranger's house and ask to move in? Tell some man I'd never met my own mother stole my life savings so she could abandon me?

With another flash of lightning the electricity flickered out and left me in the dark. I slid my back down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, the tears finally coming. It was all too much as my body bowed with the fierceness of my sobs. I cursed me ever having been born, God, my mama, Daddy Phil, but most of all I cursed Charles Swan for showing up and dropping a bomb right in the middle of my life. The destruction was too great to bear.


	2. Chapter 2

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Swansong**

I awoke the next morning still on the floor with a sore neck and a hollowed heart from all the crying I'd done most of the night. The sun blazed through the front screen door I hadn't bothered to latch. It was no matter, no one besides the postman ever stopped by. All was quiet save for the warm wind rustling through the trees and the distant gurgling of Scuttle Creek swollen from yesterday's rain. Usually I would have welcomed such a peaceful morning had it not been overshadowed by my loneliness. Nothing was going to right the wrongs and if I had to guess, Mama was on her way south, probably to Florida where the sun would always shine on her. I was no longer the thorn in her side keeping her from the life she claimed to want.

Still wearing my shoes, I toed the shattered glass all over the bedroom floor. The whole room smelled sickeningly floral, indiscernible aside from the strong rose scent that peaked above the others. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the empty cigar box that once housed my future plans. I was unsure how long I could keep people from finding out what happened especially if Charles Swan came around _._ Not being of age was going to make things difficult for sure. _Damn you to hell, Renee._ Hadn't I bore enough shame just being her daughter? I was silly to think things would get better, that I'd already kissed the bottom and up was the only place left to go.

I glanced down at my clenched fists and saw how filthy my hands were. All of me seemed to be covered in a film of dirt after my night on the floor. I made quick work of filling up the largest pot we owned and set it on the stove to boil for a bath. At least Mama left her fancy shampoo and soap behind. Her clothes. She wasn't around to tell me to stay out of her things and I was in dire need of something clean to wear. With the wash tub half filled with cold water, I added the pot of boiling water to it and began to bathe. I scrubbed my skin until I was pink all over and washed my hair twice. After cleaning my teeth and working all the knots out of my hair, I went into Mama's closet and took down my favorite of her old dresses. White with navy colored flowers printed on it, it was a lovely dress she had bought for the Independence Day picnic the year before. She promised me a good day of fun, but it all went downhill with each sip from the flask stowed away in her purse. That was the first time I ever drove an automobile because she got so drunk she could barely walk. It took me an hour to get us home safely, but I did.

With the dress on, I blushed when I looked at myself in the cracked mirror. The neckline was almost too mature for a girl my age and the bosom was a little loose, but I made it work. I felt awkwardly tall and unbalanced when I slipped my feet into the matching navy pumps, but I walked back and forth across the room until I could move properly. Goodness, I looked like a little girl playing dress up. It's not that the clothes weren't nice, but all I could focus on was how wide and scared my eyes were reflected back at me. I had no plan or prayer and no money to get where I needed to go. Seven dollars was a start, but it wouldn't go far at all. Mama and I were never churchgoing people, so I doubted God would hear me or grant me any favors. It felt inappropriate to even entertain the idea of asking Him for anything.

In an instant, my heart plummeted into my stomach and I ran outside when I heard the telltale sounds of a car coming up the drive. I was quick to anger, but beyond that black emotion was a kernel of hope that Mama had come back. As much as I wanted to hate her, I'd never known life without her. She was a drunken harlot on her best days, but she was all I ever had in the world.

It wasn't Mama, though. It was the sheriff Amos Wheeler.

"Mornin', Izzy," he said once he stepped out of his car and took his hat off. I knew Amos from working at the general store and there was no reason for him to come calling unless Charles Swan really did work fast.

"Hello, Amos. Can I help you with something?" My voice was calm and pleasant as if I wasn't panicking inside.

"When's the last time you heard from your mama?"

"Last night. She was going to visit a friend in town. She stays over sometimes when it gets too late," I said, worried how easily I could tell a lie.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," I said with a smile that didn't feel genuine at all.

"Do you know what friend she was visiting?"

I shook my head. "Mama has a lot of friends."

"I see," he said and took a look around our yard. It was in need of a good mowing.

"Not to be rude, but is there a reason you're here?"

Amos stared at me with sad blue eyes as he tapped his fingers against his hat that he held to his chest. "You're going to have to come with me, Iz."

"Why?"

He blew out a breath and his mouth set in a grim line. "There was an accident. Your mama was in an accident."

"Oh." I didn't want her hurt. "Well, why didn't you say so? Where is she now?"

"Darlin', you're not understanding me. She didn't make it out of the accident."

 _What?_ "She didn't make it out of the accident?" I tried his words out for my own, each one straining to leave my throat. "No, she's... that doesn't make any sense."

"Izzy, please. You have to come to the station with me. You're not old enough to stay here by yourself."

"I'm sixteen, Amos. Did you know my mama was a married woman with a child by the time she was my age?" I felt so strange standing there listening to the air drag in and out of my lungs.

I jumped when Amos got right in my face, his voice sharp and loud. "Izzy!"

"What?"

"Your mama didn't make it out of the accident. Do you understand what I'm saying? It was the storm. Her car veered off the road and hit a tree near the Carolina border. She was already gone before someone noticed."

I was already shaking my head. "No. She's going to Florida. That's where she's always wanted to go. She's... she's not... she just went away."

"I thought you said she was visiting a friend?"

I scoffed and flung my hand out. "Well, I guess that makes us both liars then."

I turned to go back inside, but I stopped once I faced the house. All I could see was decay. Even Mama knew better than to stick around such a place. What the hell was I holding onto? If I stayed, I'd rot too. Next thing I knew, my stomach was clenching painfully and I was leaning over the porch rail dry heaving. I hadn't eaten since the morning before, so I found no reprieve.

I sat down on the step and placed my head between my knees until I felt two strong arms around me. I was trembling all over. "I got you, Iz," Amos said softly. "Come on. It'll be alright."

No, it wouldn't be. Things hadn't been alright for so long, I wasn't sure I knew what alright meant.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was a blur as I sat on a chair at the station and stared out the window. Mama's boss from the bakery, Shelly Cope, was the one who went to officially identify her body after I told Amos I couldn't - wouldn't - go myself. She came to the station and tried to talk to me afterward, but I couldn't get my mouth to work. She said I was welcome to come stay with her and her husband for a few days while funeral arrangements were made for Mama. When I didn't say anything she started to cry and told Amos to call her if I changed my mind. I was aware of everything, I just couldn't engage with anything around me.

It was only when the day began to fade into evening that Amos pulled up a chair in front of me, saying we needed to have a talk. "Iz, you can't stay here tonight. The Copes have offered you a place to stay for a little while and I think you need to make the call. I know you don't have any relatives around here, so I found a number for a place in North Carolina you can go to. It's a boarding house for orph... for girls who need a home until they're of age to go out on their own. I spoke with the woman who runs it and they have room for you."

That was enough to knock my tongue loose. "I'm not leaving Virginia."

Amos sighed in frustration. I knew I wasn't being easy, but I didn't have time to catch up with everything happening. "I can't let you stay out there in that house by yourself. Do you have any friends whose parents might be willing to take you in?"

I never really had friends. I was too embarrassed of where I lived and too afraid to leave Mama by herself if she'd been drinking which was damn near always. "I don't think so."

"That's what I thought. I'm trying to be reasonable here, but I'm going to have to do something. You're almost grown and I felt like you should have a say, but we need a plan before you go to Shelly's house."

"I'm not going."

Amos wiped his hand down his face and let it fall to his knee. "I'm going to call and confirm with the place in North Carolina. See about arranging you bus fare through the church."

"Call my father." The words flew out before I could think about them.

Amos sighed and shook his head. "Honey, Phil's been gone since the war. I know this is a hard situation, but I need you to be realistic here. Do I need to call the doctor for you?"

"No. My real father. He lives in Sweetwater. Charles Swan."

"And I'm Santa Clause," I heard another deputy whisper, but he shut up when Amos set a nasty look on him.

"I'm calling the doctor, Iz. I don't know what else to do," Amos said as he walked over to his desk.

I jumped up from my chair and stood straight as an arrow. "Call Charles Swan. I'm not lying. If you go back to my house, there's a note on the floor from my mama that explains everything. He's why she left in the first place. He found out about me and told her he'd be back soon with the law."

Amos didn't look like he wanted to believe me, but something in my eyes must have tipped him off that I wasn't being delusional. "I'll make some calls. So help me God, Izzy, if he doesn't have any idea who you are, I'm calling the doctor."

"That's fine," I said with hope Charles hadn't changed his mind about me.

Thankfully, Charles Swan had a number listed in the telephone directory. I heard bits and pieces of the conversation and caught the look of surprise on Amos' face after he mentioned my name. I interpreted it as a good thing especially when the deputy who rudely proclaimed he was Santa Clause gave an "I'll be goddamned" when Amos told him Charles was on his way.

"I'm sure you heard that, but Charles Swan said he'd be here within the hour," Amos said as he sat next to me again.

"Okay."

"Did... Do you know if Phil knew about you not being his?"

I shrugged. "Mama said he knew, but he loved me like his own anyway."

"That he did. He'd go on and on about you to any fool who'd listen. He was crazy about your mama too."

I look to see Amos' small smile. "You knew him."

He nodded. "I did. We grew up together."

"What about the other guy. Charles. Do you know anything about him?"

"He's one of the richest men in Virginia. Business. Tobacco, spirits, and railroads to name a few. You'll have to forgive my earlier disbelief. I'm sure many people out there would love to believe they're an heir to the Swan fortune."

Words like _heir_ and _fortune_ made my stomach ball up in knots. "Does he have a family?"

"I couldn't say. You really don't know anything about him?"

I shook my head. "I just found out yesterday right before my mama left. Then today happened."

Amos took my hand into his in a gesture of comfort. "I'm so sorry, Iz. It's no wonder you've been quiet all day. What you must be going through right now."

I took my hand back and crossed my arms over my chest. "None of it matters. I can't change what's happened."

"It still hurts."

I wasn't hurting just yet, no more than the usual, but there was something far worse gnawing at my insides. A feeling that had taken me all afternoon to work out. "Want to know the worst part?"

"What's that?"

"As much as I want my mama back and breathing, I'm _relieved_ that I don't have to worry about her anymore," I said to him before the dam broke loose inside me and I was shuddering on a sob. "Am I a bad person?"

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. You're not bad at all," Amos said as he tucked a tissue into my palm. "Everyone knew your mama wasn't the best, but you just kept moving along and taking it all in stride. I think that makes you one of the best people I know."

"It all just makes me so angry," I whispered as his words sunk in. Of course people would notice Renee's habits. People loved to watch disasters, especially disasters as beautiful as she was. I don't know why I decided to tell Amos what I was feeling, but I had the notion I wasn't going to see him again for a very long time if at all.

"I was mad when I lost my mama, too. I know it doesn't seem so, but time makes things easier."

He had it all wrong. I wasn't mad that she died so much as mad that I loved her despite everything. "You have a daughter, don't you?"

"Yes. Two of them, but strangers can't pick them apart. Twins Charlotte and Scarlet. My wife wanted their names to rhyme."

Amos' obvious affection when mentioning his daughters somehow made me feel better. "Well, Amos, I think they're lucky to have you."

"Hey, boss? Mr. Swan is here," Deputy Santa Clause said as he poked his head through the doorway.

"Thank you. We'll be out in a moment," Amos said before he turned to me. "Are you ready?"

I wasn't ready at all, but I had no choice. "Yes."

A few steps behind him, I followed Amos out into the waiting area where Charles Swan stood regally in the corner. In a suit just as nice as the one he'd been wearing the day before, I gave him a good, hard look over. His eyes were dark and stony and his even darker hair was fashionably slicked back. He was tall as well, with broad shoulders and large hands with thick gold rings on a few fingers. When he'd come into Walter's, I didn't pay much attention, but seeing him up close with my newly acquired knowledge made all the difference. He didn't look intimidating so much as serious. Serious like me. Yes, I looked just like him aside from my mother's nose and delicate stature.

"Isabella," he said quietly. I wanted to tell him to call me Izzy, but I stopped myself. Izzy was a little girl's name and I no longer felt like the right person for it.

"Charles."

He cleared his throat and shuffled his weight to one foot. I did that too when I felt unsure. "I'm sorry about your mother. I would have liked for us to meet under better circumstances."

"Thank you, " I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"I'll leave you two alone," Amos said as he went back into his office.

"So," Charles started, but he looked about as uncomfortable as I was until something shifted and he became all business. "I left a message with my lawyer before I drove here to start working out the details of you coming to live with me. It should be a relatively smooth process. Do you have your things with you?"

"Um, no. I don't have... there isn't much to get." My clothes were on their last leg and if it wasn't for Mama's heels, I'd be wearing my scuffed up saddle shoes.

Charles inclined his head toward me slightly. "I thought as much. I know the owner of the women's clothing store over in Sweetwater. It's closed by now, but I'll make a phone call so we can get you squared away."

"Alright." I'd never known anyone who could make a phone call to demand a store owner open up shop after hours. "I don't have a whole lot of money." In fact, the seven dollars I had to my name was still sitting on the dining table at home.

Charles looked at me as if I was an oddity. "Let me worry about the money."

It wasn't in my nature not to be the worrier, but I had half a mind to know we were going to have to communicate better. "I don't know how to do this. It's like I'm stuck in a really bad dream, waiting to wake up."

Charles surprised me when he smiled a little. "I understand. Perhaps once things have settled we can have a long overdue conversation. I don't know how to do this either, so we'll figure it out together."

It was comforting knowing he was just as uncertain about all this as I was. "Deal," I said and put my hand out for a shake.

Charles' amusement was clear at the thought of shaking on it, but he clasped my hand in his own. "Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Little Pieces**

There was something magical about riding through the center of Sweetwater as the sun just began to set. It was as if the coming night morphed the town into a real life fairy tale land with brick streets and twinkling gas lamps lining the sidewalks. There wasn't a dilapidated building in sight, just immaculate structures with gleaming signs. It was a place straight out of the Hollywood pictures, the women and men who were out for the evening dressed as glamorous as any I'd ever seen. I bet if I rolled down the car window, the air itself would have smelled expensive. It was staggering what a difference a forty minute car ride could make when it came to money and class. The smallest house I'd seen was easily three times bigger than anything back in my hometown. It was obvious Sweetwater was a close-knit network of wealth and it seemed the only outsiders let in began and ended with the help.

Charles parked his car outside a store front with a large picture window and a glossy black front door anchored by pots filled with bright red flowers. From what I could tell from the mannequins in the window, _Esme's_ was a store I probably couldn't afford to walk into let alone make a purchase.

"She should be here any minute," Charles said as he lit a cigarette.

"Your friend?"

"Well, the wife of my friend. My lawyer, Carlisle, he owns this place, but his wife Esme runs it. She'll be coming to let us in."

"Oh."

"Esme is a nice woman. She's very discreet," Charles said as if he needed to reassure me. Maybe he did. I kept wavering between feeling everything at once and then nothing at all. Right then, I was actively trying to maintain that blessed emptiness.

"There she is now."

I glanced over just in time to see a shiny white car whip into the empty space beside us. The woman who stepped out of it looked like a movie star in her cream colored skirt and blouse, her blonde hair framing her face in short waves. I always thought my mama was a beauty, but this woman was _stunning_. I felt my gracelessness when Charles opened the passenger door for me and I stepped onto the street. After sitting in the station all day, I'm sure I looked a mess, so I wasn't surprised when I looked up to meet Esme's arched brow and curious gaze. That look alone, as innocent as it may have been, was enough to make me believe that Sweetwater and its residents weren't going to go easy on me. I guess I understood, after all I was a girl who'd obviously been through hell showing up at a clothing store after hours with one of the upper crust. There wasn't a very good explanation for all that besides the truth and even that was a hard pill to swallow.

"Esme, this is my... well, she's... this is Isabella. Isabella, this is Esme Cullen," Charles stuttered his way through introductions.

Esme's manners were flawless as she held out her hand to me for a warm greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Isabella."

I wiped my clammy hand on my skirt as discreetly as possible before I shook hers. "Likewise."

"Good. Now I hear you're in need of a few things," she said as she unlocked the door for us. "Would you like me to write up a tab and bill you later, Charlie?"

"Yes, that's perfect."

Once inside, Esme turned on an overhead light that made my eyes sting from its brightness. Charles came over to me and awkwardly placed a hand on my shoulder before deciding against physical contact. "I'm going over to the payphone down the street to make a call. It's only a few doors down. You go ahead and get whatever you need and don't worry about the price. Shoes, dresses, personals, whatever you need."

"Alright," I said as I watched him head out, leaving me alone with Esme.

I glanced over to her and saw her preoccupied with rummaging around for something in her handbag. My nerves were threatening to get the best of me, so I wrapped my arms around my middle and took in my surroundings like the bright red carpeting, gilded mirrors, and elegant clothes. I had no idea where to start or what my proper size was. Some of my clothes came from charity and Mama bought my skirts that were required for school. Nothing ever fit well, but the clothes fit _well enough_ much like the dress of Mama's I was wearing. She loved to shop whenever the chance arose, mostly for herself, so I never had much say. Now I had too much say.

"You go ahead and pick anything you want. Charlie said to give you free rein," Esme said.

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just walked over to a section of the store that looked like it housed the clothes for girls my age. The racks were full of dresses and trousers and real cashmere sweater sets fit for a princess. I felt like I'd dirty them all up if I touched them. What if I picked all the wrong things and embarrassed Charles? Myself? I felt judged in my hometown and nobody around there had much. Sweetwater was a whole new ball game. My lip started to tremble like it did before the tears came. I bit down on it hard and breathed in deeply through my nose to stop myself.

It didn't help that I could feel Esme watching me from where she stood by the counter smoking a cigarette. I reached out to riffle through the racks as if I knew what to choose, my anxiety reaching a peak when I heard her soft steps coming nearer.

"Would you like some help?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what to get."

"Well, what do you need? A few new dresses? Slacks? Blouses?"

"Everything?"

"Everything," she repeated. "I'm not sure I understand."

I wasn't going to cry, I wasn't going to cry. "This is all I have with me," I said, motioning to the dress I wore that wasn't even mine.

Esme's eyes widened in surprise for a fleeting moment before she became coolly professional. I still saw that moment of judgment, though, however small it was. "I see. Well, don't you worry about a thing, Isabella. How about we start with dresses? This blue print will look darling with your coloring," she said as she held a dress up to me that really was beautiful.

With Esme's help at every step, the experience went by smooth and generally painless. I was conservative about what I chose, only picking things I knew I would get a lot of use from. She even helped fit me with proper undergarments. I was now the owner of three satin bras. I never had much up top, but those bras certainly helped give that illusion. My cheeks burned once I looked in the mirror after trying one on.

I had everything I would need, clothes and shoes and even a new belt and box of sanitary napkins Esme kept stocked in the back. _For discretion_ , she'd said. Everything fit inside five white paper shopping bags aside from the dresses Esme put into a garment bag I could hang in a closet. I took a peek at the tab as she wrote everything down, my heart plummeting at the number. Clothes, nice ones, were not cheap at all.

Thinking about money got me to thinking about Frank. I should have at least called to tell him I wouldn't be in. Maybe he already knew what happened. Would I have to run an obituary in the paper? Mama kept a lot of company, but I don't know how many true friends she had. There was a woman she talked about sometimes, Trudy, but I'd never met her. I had a feeling she often joined Mama at the tavern and that's as far as it went. I wouldn't know how to contact her as it was. Charles may have told me to let him worry about expenses, but I certainly didn't expect to get everything for free.

Guilt hit me like a wrecking ball, nearly knocking the wind out of me. Here I was in a fancy shop picking out hundreds of dollars worth of new clothes while Mama was gone. She'd never take another breath, never smile again, never hug me in those rare moments she decided I was worth the attention. I used to sit and worry about her dying on those nights she drank too much and didn't come home. Living with Mama was this cycle of anger, worry, panic, relief, over and over again for as long as I could remember. She always came back. Perhaps her being gone for good really was for the better. I didn't know much about Heaven, but I doubted God let anyone be broken up there, and something inside Mama was definitely broken.

"Isabella?"

Esme's face appeared blurry from all the tears in my eyes I refused to let fall. I didn't realize how much I needed to be comforted until she came around the counter and wrapped me up in the tightest hug I'd ever had. I was positively starved for affection, compassion, and had been for years. I clung to her more than was proper between acquaintances, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I'm not sure what's going on, but I have a feeling I know. You look too much like him not to be." She didn't outright say Charles was my father because she wasn't that type of lady, but she hit the nail on the head.

"My mother passed away last night," I said.

Esme led me over to one of the sofas near the dressing rooms and sat down with me. "You poor girl. Is this... are you close with Charlie?"

I shook my head. "I just formally met him a couple hours ago."

"What you must be going through. No wonder you didn't feel like shopping. I do wish my husband had shared a few more details before asking me to meet with Charlie and his guest."

I shrugged. "It wouldn't have changed anything. Some things are necessary and can't be put off."

"You sound very mature. May I ask how old you are?"

"I turned sixteen in March."

"And you'll be living with Charlie?"

"As far as I know."

"Charlie definitely has plenty of room to spare. Please accept my condolences, Isabella."

"Thank you."

The little chiming bell above the door sounded as Charles walked through it. "Sorry that took so long. I fear your husband will be a busy man on my behalf the next few days."

"The work never ends," Esme said with a small smile.

"Did you get what you needed?" Charles asked me.

"Yes. Esme was a great help. More than I can say." I squeezed her hand in thanks.

"I'm glad to help."

Charles insisted he be the one to carry everything out to the car. Once the trunk was filled and we said our goodbyes to Esme, my nerves returned at what was next. Charles pulled out of the parking spot and drove down the road, passing shops and other businesses, one being a brightly lit diner with lots of cars and people around it. We stopped at a traffic sign just long enough for me to see all the smiling people inside congregating in overflowing booths. They all looked to be around my age, probably enjoying a typical Friday night outing, something I'd never done. How I ached to belong like that.

"Do you like roast chicken?"

I turned to Charles and thought his question odd. "Sure."

"That's what Ms. Clearwater had planned for supper."

"Who's Ms. Clearwater?"

"The head cook at Swan House. There are several staff that stay on the property year round. She's one of them."

Year round staff? Who needed such a thing? I quickly found out when Charles drove the car onto a side street. There were two houses on either side of the road, both of them qualifying as mansions with manicured lawns and lit up fountains out front. I wondered which one was his, but he kept driving until we came to a big iron gate. A man who seemed to be waiting just for us quickly pulled them open and Charles drove through, the headlights of his car lighting up the canopy of trees arching above us. At the end of the drive, my breath tangled up in my lungs when I laid eyes upon the largest house I'd ever seen, if one could call it a house. It was _palatial._

"You live here?" I blurted out.

"Yes, ma'am, third generation born and raised."

I hummed, craning my neck to see as much as I could from the car. "It's very..."

"It's a little much, but home is home," Charles said good naturedly.

"Is this where-" I stopped myself from asking him about Mama. I wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it or if I was ready to hear the answer.

But Charles pressed. "Is this where what?"

"Um, Renee. Is this where you met my mama?"

He tapped his fingers along the steering wheel before he shut the engine off and got out. My nerves began to fray before he came around and opened my door for me. "Come on. I'll show you exactly where I first met her."

Before we got to walking, there was an older man dressed in all black who came down the wide stairs that led to the front door. The whole place was lit up and looked as inviting as it did intimidating. Charles tossed the man his keys and said, "There are bags in the trunk. I'll need them put away in the blue room."

"Yes, sir," the old man said.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

Charles said, "That's Rhodes. He's been the head butler here for nearly thirty years."

I wasn't sure how to respond. In my world, butlers and personal cooks were services that no one in real life had besides maybe President Eisenhower and the queen of England. I felt so tiny as Charles and I walked along the stone path that curved around the monstrous house. It was three floors high with balconies and arched windows and stately columns holding it all up. No wonder Mama was so bitter about her lot in life if she'd been exposed to a place like this so young.

"It was here, in the gardens. Your grandfather worked for my parents. He actually helped design the eastern section," Charles revealed.

Below us, down a few wide steps, was a garden that stretched farther than I could see in the dark. It was enchanting with paved walkways, benches, and electric lampposts spaced around so people could enjoy it at night. It was almost too beautiful to look at. "It's gorgeous."

"I have to agree. I've always loved it out here, though I'm often too busy to truly enjoy it."

"It looks like the perfect place to read a book," I said as I imaged laying out on a blanket with the sun on my back, utterly absorbed in a novel.

"Rest assured it is. This is your home, Isabella. As my only child, I don't want you to feel like you need to walk on eggshells," Charles said, surprising me with his blunt acknowledgment of what I was to him. I had a feeling that was the case seeing how he wore a few rings, but none on his ring finger. "There's a library on the second floor that may help you along with reading in the garden."

Something about his earnestness made me want to cry. "Thank you."

Charles nodded and motioned for me to follow him up the back stairs. Though there was a magnificent set of French doors that let into a parlor as far as I could tell, Charles led me through a smaller side door that went directly into the kitchen, a real kitchen with two refrigerators and a large gas range with two ovens. A delicious scent lingered in the air and my stomach gurgled in response.

"We must have just missed her," Charles grumbled, his disappointment clear.

"Who?"

"Ms. Clearwater. I was hoping you'd get to meet her, but it seems she's turned in for the night. Perhaps tomorrow then," he said as he kept walking.

Through a large butler's pantry, we entered into a dining room – more like dining hall – with a large chandelier centered over an impressive walnut table that could seat at least fourteen people if the amount of chairs were any indication. The seats were cushioned in a dark gold fabric that matched the satiny valances and drapes adorning the floor to ceiling windows that lined the whole left wall of the room. The crown molding was perfection and the ceilings were tall and painted to look like an evening sky, adding to the overall extravagance of the room. Even the art on the walls was luxurious.

I must have stared too long at one of the old oil portraits because Charles said, "That would be your great-great grandfather, Arthur Charles Swan, and his wife Melissa. He built this house for her once he'd made his fortune and decided to court her. He was twelve years her senior and rumor has it the reason this estate is so large is because she was very hard to impress."

I scoffed. "I'll say."

"She obviously had no idea the lengths us Swans will go to get what we want."

His statement felt loaded, but luckily I didn't have to respond because Rhodes entered the room. "Sir, Mr. Cullen is here to see you."

"Ah, yes, Carlisle," Charles said and greeted the man who'd come in just behind Rhodes with a firm handshake. "This would be Isabella."

I was beginning to think there was something in the water around town that grew beautiful people. Carlisle was very handsome in that sleepy-eyed, young Clark Gable way. He even had that same kind of knowing smile. It was no wonder he was a lawyer. His charm seemed to enter the room before he did.

Carlisle stared me down for a long moment. "You're most definitely a Swan. It's lovely to meet you," he said with a slight bow of his head.

"Would you mind serving Isabella supper and showing her to her room?" Charles asked Rhodes.

"My pleasure, sir."

Charles turned back to me. "There's a lot of paper work to be done, so the quicker I finish it the better. I'll be in to see you before long. Like I said, please make yourself at home."

"I will."

Rhodes pulled out a chair for me to sit in at one of the two spaces that had been set. While I initially thought the silver on the sideboard was purely for decoration, I was proven wrong when Rhodes lifted one of the lids and revealed a beautiful hand painted plate filled with roast chicken, creamed spinach, and red potatoes.

"What would you like to drink? Milk? Tea? Wine?" Rhodes asked, so eager to help.

"Tea will be fine, thank you," I said, thrown a little that he would offer me wine.

"Hot or sweet?"

"Sweet."

I was glad to be dining alone once I began my meal. I was starving and everything was so delicious, I ate much quicker than I normally would have. The dull headache that had set up behind my eyes late in the afternoon eased up as I sipped the last of my tea. Even that was fancy with a lemon slice on the edge of the glass and a sprig of mint in the tea, but it was the most refreshing glass of sweet tea I'd ever drank.

Rhodes seemed to appear out of nowhere to clear my plate. "May I offer you dessert, miss?"

"Oh, no, thank you."

He nodded and set my plate back on the tray on the sideboard. "Would you like me to show you to your room now?"

"Sure."

I had a feeling I'd be spending a lot of time getting to know the layout of the antebellum maze I found myself in. There were so many closed doors I wanted to open and things I wanted to look at as Rhodes led me up the grand staircase that was so beautiful it nearly took my breath away.

"You'll be in the eastern wing," Rhodes explained over his shoulder. At the top of the stairs, there was a large sitting area with a sofa and several chairs situated around a handsome fireplace. I hardly had enough time to take it in before Rhodes opened a set of white double doors to my right. While I expected that to be my room, it just led into yet another hallway. I was worried I'd lose my way when finally, at the very end of the hall, Rhodes opened the last door and said, "Here we are."

I stepped into the room, utterly speechless. Charles had called it the blue room, but that was such a simple description. From the sheen of the dark wood floors to the rich lavender-blue on the walls and silk bedspread, I'd never expected anything so lavish to have for my own. As far as I could remember, we never had a place to sit besides the dining table and now I had a sitting area in my _bedroom_ with a white velvet chaise and matching chair. They were all situated next to the doors that opened onto a furnished balcony overlooking part of the gardens.

"Will you be needing anything else, miss?"

"Please call me Isabella," I said.

Rhodes smiled. "Isabella."

"Where's the bath?"

"It's just through that door," he said and gestured to what I thought was the closet. "You'll find it fully stocked with fresh towels and toiletries. Would you like your wardrobe put away? I took the liberty of placing your belongings in your dressing room."

I shook my head. I needed to do _something_ for myself, like figure out what he meant by dressing room. "No, I'll handle things from here. Thank you," I repeated, grateful to finally have some privacy once he was gone.

There was a porcelain clock sitting atop one of the two nightstands flanking the bed, the delicate gold hands showing it was just after ten. I moaned out loud when I slid my feet out of those godforsaken pumps, vowing to never wear heels that high again unless I had to. Even my legs were sore as I walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light.

In all my dreams of that elusive future house where I'd finally have better, the bathroom was always what I fantasized about longest. With a built-in vanity, marble floors, and a cast iron claw-foot tub, it blew any expectations I may have had right out of the water. There was even a small table with a vase of fresh cut flowers set up next to the commode. In the cupboards on either side of the vanity there were fluffy white towels folded to perfection alongside shampoos and soaps with names I wasn't sure how to pronounce.

I found the dressing room Rhodes spoke of. Through a door next to the tub was a room filled with shelves and drawers and mirrors. There were spaces for my shoes and a stand for jewelry, not that I had any of that, but if I ever did, I had a place to store it for safekeeping. The white carpeting was so thick I curled my toes into it as I sat on the plush bench in the center of the room, imagining it filled with my new things. How was I ever going to get used to all this? It was like someone plucked me right off the face of the earth and dropped me back down into someone else's life. Sweetwater may as well been a whole new planet and Charles' – _my_ – home was the glimmering white castle that loomed above the rest.

Exhaustion finally hit me as I got ready for bed. I slipped on one of my new nightgowns, a white cotton one with lace trim and cap sleeves perfect for summer nights. As I situated my shopping bags in the closet, thinking I'd get to them later when I wasn't so tired, I noticed a brown paper bag unlike the rest that was hastily folded closed with a few numbers written on it in grease pencil. Curious, I set it on the bench and opened it to see what it contained. I hadn't noticed an exchange between Charles and Amos, but it obviously happened if I was now in possession of my mother's purse. Immediately, I rolled the bag back up and shoved it as far as it would go into the bottom drawer of the built-in.

I'd been doing so good all evening, but that was blown all to hell seeing that coral bag she loved so much. Scenes of her car crumpled like an accordion against a tree out in the middle of nowhere flashed through my mind. I didn't know – didn't want to know – how exactly she met her end. Still, the images came in quick succession, her dead in the car, maybe outside of the car, always with different levels of injuries. When I began to question whether or not I'd be able to have an open casket funeral for her, I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head to try and relieve myself of those thoughts. It felt like an invisible hand was tightening up around my lungs as I pulled at the collar of my nightgown to no avail.

I broke out in a cold sweat before I left my room in search of anything, anyone that would bring me back down to the earth. I felt like a ghost floating across the floor, through the double doors, and back down the grand staircase. With no sign of Rhodes and no idea where Charles' office was, I crept back through to the kitchen and to the door we'd come in. Leaning against the cast iron railing of the back veranda, I took several deep breaths before that strangled feeling in my chest began to ease up. I'd never experienced panic so acutely before.

There was no way I could go to sleep after all that, so I padded down the stairs and into the garden. I didn't have shoes on, but the stone of the walkway was cool and smooth beneath my feet. All was quiet save for the background lull of crickets as I passed by a bed of white daisies situated round a bird bath, their petals closed up for the night. Every which way I turned there was something to look at, more colors and shapes to make out and scents to decipher. My knowledge of flowers was limited, just basics really, and although I couldn't see much despite the lighting, I had the feeling I was walking within a wonderland. Certain I could hear water, my pace picked up as I ambled toward the sound. I was beyond the part of the garden that was lit, so the moon that wasn't quite full was my only light. I gasped when I came across a small wooden footbridge arching over a brook. It was all so pretty. I glanced behind me and saw the light I'd left on in my bedroom window. It was a tiny pinprick in the distance, a measure of just how far I had already come as I stood in the center of the bridge and watched the blue-black of the water flowing by.

"I wish I didn't have to think about you anymore," I began to speak aloud, feeling like I could finally give a shape to what dwelled inside me. "You took so much, never said thank you or apologized. I didn't ask to be born and it wasn't my job to worry about you, but I did. That's who I am. I care about people even when I don't want to. I don't understand why you did the things you did and I'll never get the chance to ask you why. I guess that's fine, but I just want to tell you that after arrangements are made and you're put to rest, I don't ever want you stealing from me again, especially not my happiness."

Whatever had urged me to speak my mind to Mama, I felt lighter for it afterward. It isn't like she ever listened to me in life, so I doubted she would in death, but I had to try. Not having any angry tears to contend with was a blessing as I wished on the brightest star in the sky for Charles and I to get along, not that I had much reason to worry. It hadn't been a full twenty-four hours and he'd already fed me, clothed me, and gave me the finest roof over my head in all of Virginia.

On my way back to the house, I had just come across a statue styled after those found in ancient Greece, a beautiful, scandalous one of a woman with her left breast exposed when I heard the clipped sounds of quickened footsteps coming toward me. While I didn't set out to hide, the two men stopped several feet away from me and began to argue. It was made even more awkward once I realized one of them was Carlisle Cullen.

"Edward, when will you stop this nonsense?"

"It isn't nonsense, _Father_ ," Edward answered with such rancor I blanched. His back was to me, but I didn't need to see his face to know exactly how he felt.

Carlisle seemed unbothered by his son's temper. "Are you trying to shame the Cullen name?"

"That's rich. You go around doing as you please, whoever you please, leaving my mother at home to play the perfect wife and you think me taking a job is bringing shame to the Cullen name?"

"Son, I never claimed to be a perfect man, but for you to throw your future away because you have some vendetta against me is one of the most foolish things I've ever seen you do. I realize you're the type to cut off your nose to spite your face, but when does it end?"

A smooth, venomous laugh left the young man. "You don't get it. Never will."

"Maybe not, but could you at least come home? Esme is beside herself with worry. I promised to stay out of your business with Charlie and I've kept my word, but to have you sleeping out here on a cot among the help is... it's unseemly."

"I guess you'd know a thing or two about what's unseemly, but being here is better than being under your roof having to deal with your horse shit. Have a good night."

Edward stalked away before Carlisle sighed and did the same. I closed my mouth that had fallen open when Edward cursed so easily in front of his father. I bet Mama would have smacked me clear across the room if I ever thought to speak to her in such a way.

It seemed I was getting very good at overhearing things not meant for my ears. I was halfway back to the house when I heard a rustling behind me before a firm hand clasped my shoulder. I spun around with a small gasp and there Edward was, a whole head taller than me with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. Neither one of us said anything as his eyes bore into mine, the earth seeming to stand still for those few seconds. How unnerving and indulgent it was to be so close to a face like his, unmistakably beautiful even in anger. I had a feeling any other time Edward would have been properly put together, a picture perfect gentlemen, but so late at night under the guise of being alone, he was undone and electric.

"Who are you?" He demanded though his eyes softened and his lips curved up a little as he glanced down at my nightgown and bare feet.

"Isabella," I whispered, my heart a hummingbird trapped in my ribcage.

"Isabella," he tried my name out for himself. "I've never seen you before."

I shook my head. "I just got here."

The tenseness in his shoulders visibly relaxed. "And what business does a beautiful girl like you have here at Swan House?"

I was hopeful the lighting was poor enough not to reveal how my whole face felt like fire after a comment like that. "I... I suppose this is where I live now."

"Oh. You must be on house duty then. I was hired here mostly to help in the gardens. When were you hired?"

"What?" I asked, overwhelmed by his closeness and the way another person could smell so appealing.

"She wasn't hired, she's my daughter."

Edward and I jumped back from each other causing Charles to chuckle. The smell of his Camel non-filter swirled in the humid air around us as he stepped out of the shadows and into the dim lamppost light. "You aren't wearing any shoes, Isabella."

"No. I didn't plan to go for a walk, it just happened," I explained, worried he'd be upset with me. He had just bought me plenty of shoes, including a pair of house slippers Esme insisted on.

"I don't mind," he said. "This is your home now. I'd prefer you be comfortable here even if that means foregoing footwear."

I felt so shy and didn't know what to say at his kindness. Thankfully, Edward and his obvious confusion saved me. "So, Charlie, if you don't mind me asking, when did you get a daughter?"

"I'd like to say I got her in March of '41, but we'll go with today," Charles answered.

Edward looked down as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Well, ain't that some shit?"

I laughed out loud, too loud, so I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle my giggles. It was such a simple phrase to perfectly sum up the whole situation, especially that last twenty-four hours of my life. "It most certainly is."

"Perhaps you've been spending too much time with the stable boys. I don't think I've ever heard you curse in front of a lady," Charles teased.

Edward must have taken Charles' words as a challenge because next thing I knew, Edward stood up straight and turned on the charm he so obviously inherited from his father. "Do forgive me, Miss Isabella. I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Edward Cullen, and as a member of one of Sweetwater's founding families, I would like to extend to you my warmest, _sincerest_ welcome to our lovely town."

"Boy, get out of here with that," Charles chided with a wave of his hand. It was difficult not to notice how he seemed so lighthearted with Edward, almost like a whole different person. "I'm turning in for the night. I'd prefer if you did as well, Isabella. There's plenty to do tomorrow and I'd like you to be well rested."

"I will," I said, touched that he seemed to care what I was up to.

"Goodnight, Edward."

"Goodnight, Charlie."

I stood there for a few more moments watching Charles' retreating form before I turned back to Edward to tell him goodnight as well. When his eyes met mine once more, my breath caught in my throat. There was something compelling in Edward's gaze, a brazen curiosity he seemed intent to explore.

"Where did you come from, Isabella Swan?" He mused, calling me by my full name that hadn't yet been set in stone.

I doubted Edward expected an answer, but when the intensity of his stare became too much, I looked away and softly said, "From somewhere very different from here. It was nice meeting you, Edward Cullen."

My eyes snapped backed to his when he gently took my hand and bowed down to press a kiss across my knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine. I'll be seeing you," he whispered before taking a step back, that bemused smirk once again on his lips.

Lord, how I smiled as I stumbled away from him, my feet and my nerves propelling me forward despite my desire to stay there in the garden and get to know Edward better. I chanced a look over my shoulder before I began to climb the stairs up to the back door and he was still standing there in the distance, a shadowed silhouette watching me with his hands resting in his pant pockets. While I was wholly inexperienced with such matters, I did have good instincts and they were screaming at me to navigate around Edward carefully. I just couldn't decide if doing so was more for my sake or his.


	4. Chapter 4

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Ave Maria**

"I would like to respect your wants and wishes, but a decision needs to be made as soon as possible," Charles said as we ate fluffy yellow eggs and buttered toast for breakfast.

Before the sun had poked up over the horizon, I had awoken surprisingly refreshed and still feeling like I'd stepped into a fairytale. I'd been floating in a dream all morning until gravity began to bear down on me, pulling me back to reality wherein I had to help Charles with arrangements for my mother. As I considered the options he'd brought to the table, I sipped the hot coffee I decided to try, appreciating the warm, bitter flavor tempered by the cream and single sugar cube I'd put in it. "I understand," I said quietly. "Where would I put the urn of ashes?"

"Anywhere you'd like. I have my own opinions and don't see a problem with cremation, but if you do, I can arrange for her to be buried like we discussed. You don't have to have a funeral for her, Isabella. I won't make you do that."

Mama wasn't a God-fearing woman and she never once mentioned final wishes of any kind. If I had to guess, Mama always knew she'd face death head on with her eyes wide open. There was no preparations or talk of such things because that wasn't how Mama worked. The only thing I was certain on was that she hated cemeteries. At least, that's what she said in explanation for the reason why we never went to Phil's grave. Cremation wasn't traditional in the least and Mama may have appreciated that in some way. "I think I'd like her to be cremated."

"Are you sure? There's no going back once things are in motion."

I nodded my head after I took the last sip of my coffee. "Yes. I'm sure. There's no reason to make a public spectacle out of things. I doubt anyone who'd show up to her funeral would actually be there to pay respects."

"You have a very good head on your shoulders. Decisive. I like that," Charles stated.

I didn't feel decisive at all, but maybe he saw something in me I couldn't yet. "There's no use trying to stop what comes. Just makes messes messier in the long run."

He shook his head. "Alright then. I don't want you to worry about anything."

"Char–" I had to clear my throat as I choked on his name. "Charles, I can't begin to thank you for everything you've done. I'm sure you remember that I have – _that I had_ – a job at Walter's. Just looking at this house I'm aware that my status in life has changed dramatically, but I don't expect to be given so much for free. I'm sure I can find a job somewhere around here and I plan to pay you back for Mama's arrangements."

Charles' was clearly amused about something. "Isabella, I appreciate your honesty, but I'll do as I please with my money. I have sixteen years to make up for the way I see it. As far as you're concerned, the only job I want you focusing on is schooling. What year are you going into? Junior?"

Never once had my decision to quit school been a cause for embarrassment until that moment. "I never finished my sophomore year. I went to work."

His brows rose up at that. "You went to work. And what did Renee say about that?"

I shrugged. "She just signed the papers and said it was about time."

Charles' cheeks were turning ruddy and when he spoke his voice came out tight. "I hate that I wasn't able to be there for you."

His declaration was charged and I never knew someone's concern over my wellbeing could be so acutely uncomfortable on my part. I didn't know how to let anyone care about me, and maybe that was the saddest thing about the whole situation. "It really isn't your fault."

"Did she take your money?"

I had the sudden urge to cry, but I placed my hand onto my lap and clenched, letting my nails dig into my palm to distract me from tears. "Not until the end. I bought our groceries and a few necessities."

"Not until the end?"

"She took my money to leave. I'm sure most if not all of it is in her belongings," I said with a wave in what I thought to be the direction of my room.

"I'm sorry, Isabella."

I looked up to him and his dark eyes were shimmering in a way. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Like I said, you didn't know. Some people just aren't very nice."

"I know a thing or two about difficult mothers," Charles replied.

"Do you?"

"My mother was a handful. Often cruel. I'm not sure I was so much angry with Renee than I was with my mother. That's how I found out about you. My mother left you a trust."

"A trust? I don't understand."

Charles nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "As executor, we'll have that conversation once everything is settled, but yes, she left you a trust. She knew all about you. Mentioned the money she'd given to Renee to help her with newborn expenses in exchange for Renee's silence." Charles' jaw ticked and I heard his teeth grind. "My mother was the queen of keeping up appearances and avoiding scandal. Eleanor Faye Beaumont-Swan. She was difficult to love and I was her favorite, so that's saying something."

I tiptoed right around the curious fact that some woman I shared blood with actively chose to never know me yet saw it fit to write me into her will. "Does you being her favorite mean I have aunts and uncles?"

Charles smiled, but it was so sad. "I had a younger sister. A spirited thing. She wasn't quiet and demure the way our mother would have preferred. Marie was always getting into trouble. I think that's why she was such good friends with your mother."

Intrigued, I asked, "When did they become friends?"

"The summer of 1939. Things were beginning to pick back up after the worst of the Depression. Mother decided to restore the gardens and clean up the orchard. Your grandfather knew plants well and was among those commissioned for the job. I guess it being summer and all, he had your mother tag along."

"I never knew much about my grandfather."

"Yes, Grandy Higginbotham. He was a character for sure. I was sad to read about his heart attack when I started to look into things after reading my mother's will."

"You'll have to tell me more sometime. I don't remember him much. Not really at all. I'm guessing you met my mama through your sister then?"

"I did. Renee was a year younger than Marie, but she took Renee under her wing and they became inseparable much to our mother's displeasure. I'm sure Mother assumed Renee would leave when autumn came, but Marie wasn't having that. She stole a car once to go get your mama," Charles said with a genuine laugh from deep in his belly. "Mother probably would have sent her off to boarding school then had our father not intervened. When he died that winter from pneumonia, I think Mother was too caught up in her own grief to care what Marie was doing for a stretch."

"What happened to her? Marie, I mean."

"Well, Marie didn't like being told what to do. By the fall of 1940, I was at Harvard and Mother had finally made good on her threats and put Marie in a boarding school to finish her diploma. That didn't go over so well. I got a letter from her in February of '41 saying she'd had enough of our mother and was on her way to Florida with some friends. Six months later, Mother received word Marie was among those killed in a hotel fire."

"That's so terrible," I said, saddened at the idea of such a young life being snuffed out.

"It was a long time ago. Sometimes it's easier for me to think she's still out there running around without a care in the world. But maybe now you can see why I lost touch with your mother. Why Marie didn't know about Renee being with child. The whole world was beginning to shift when you were born."

"I guess so. When did your mother pass?" I asked and thought it had to have been recent unless he'd waited to come look for me.

"About two months ago. Easter Sunday to be exact, which was so perfect for her, I have half a mind to believe she'd planned it out that way. Regardless, she'd been sick for so long, her death was merciful."

"I understand the feeling," I said. And I did. It was like I finally saw Charles in that moment and just how similar we really were. We didn't know each other at all, but he was just as alone as I was in the world with no family or anchor. It occurred to me that maybe Charles needed me just as much as I needed him. I'd never had a father before, not a real flesh and blood man like the one before me, so it was going to take some getting used to, but I was more than ready to give things a chance.

"Would you be willing to accompany me to services tomorrow?" Charles asked.

"Like church?"

"Yes. It's something I like to do and it seems like a nice way to start introducing you around."

The thought of being introduced to anyone else in Sweetwater set my nerves on edge. As much as I wanted to put such things off indefinitely it wouldn't be fair to Charles. "Of course I'll go."

"Thank you. It'll be nice to have someone to sit next to again," he said and looked like he may have embarrassed himself admitting it.

"You're welcome. It'll be nice to be included in something," I replied in my attempt to let him know what he said was welcome.

"Good. Speaking of, I wanted to discuss with you a few things around the house I realized you may not be aware of or comfortable with. You don't have to wait for set times to eat. While I do keep a schedule when I'm home, you're more than welcome to get whatever you want out of the kitchen. I'm sure Ms. Clearwater would be happy to whip something up for you."

"Alright."

He grinned. "And you don't have to stay here. Go out. Explore. You're sixteen years old. If you'd like to go somewhere, arrange for a car with Rhodes. I don't want you to be afraid to ask for what you want or need. Carlisle will be setting up an account for you with some of the money from your grandmother's trust. Something tells me you know how to manage a check book."

"I learned how in my home economics class last year. And how to iron shirts, mend buttons, and buy groceries and prepare meals for my future family," I said with a furrowed brow. I loathed that class even as I excelled in it.

Charles chuckled and pulled out his silver cigarette case. "I'd suggest waiting on the family part."

I smiled at that. "I'd have to agree with you there."

* * *

I thought I understood the vastness of Swan House and the surrounding property, but daylight showed me a different story. There was the main garden which I only saw a portion of the night before, laid out in a wide half circle that ended where grass began. I could see the small footbridge in the distance, much farther away than I thought, along with the statue I encountered. Nobody needed that much space all to themselves, but as I saw some of the workers out pulling weeds, I realized the house itself was a business that provided jobs for people. I was having a difficult time comprehending that Swan House was now my home and had been in my bloodline for several generations. What _was_ real to me was how incredibly small I felt, a slip of a girl wandering around a foreign land awaiting the villains that were sure to come even as she wanted to believe with her whole heart everything was finally okay.

I heard a saying once that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. It was said about my former teacher who was doing things with other women he shouldn't have being married and all. Still, it stuck with me and I'd say it in my head sometimes whenever Mama made promises she didn't keep. I never thought of it in reference to myself before that moment, but it was difficult not to let my natural pessimism get in my way. Life had already taught me several hard lessons for one so young, but I didn't like to complain. Perhaps with a little time I'd learn to truly accept what happened to me, the bad and the good, and I'd finally fit somewhere without having to think so hard about it.

On the side of the house I hadn't yet explored, a field full of trees stretched out in rows. Apples and peaches mostly, but there were some nut trees from what I could tell. Charles mentioned an orchard at breakfast, but I didn't have it in me to imagine something so magnificent. I was going to need to start thinking much bigger if I was to make it around Sweetwater.

With no one around, I slipped my new shoes off and placed them underneath one of the apple trees before I began to walk through the orchard, losing myself in my thoughts like I often did. The skirt of my new dress looked like a bell swishing out from my hips and I wanted to twirl to make it spin out like girls did on those dancing programs. So I did just that, brought my arms out and spun, making myself laugh in the process.

"Now there's a sight to behold."

I jumped, my hand flying to my chest as I looked up. Leaning against the trunk of one of the taller trees was Edward Cullen. He was a casual figure in blue jeans, t-shirt, and those canvas basketball shoes. In the morning sun, his beauty made me blush. What fine features that boy had, even with the hint of sunburn across the tops of his cheeks. And the thick eyelashes he had framing his green eyes were enough to make any girl envy him. Something brand new and strange stirred in my belly as I stared, so I looked away and hugged my arms around me. "You could have made yourself known," I said quietly.

"But I didn't. Do you have a thing against shoes?"

I grinned a little. "Not particularly. My feet are still sore from yesterday. Sometimes toes need to breathe," I explained and immediately felt ridiculous saying such a thing.

Edward chuckled, though. "I guess so. They really are nice toes," he said, causing me to curl them up into the grass.

"Thank you?"

"So you're Isabella Swan. I was trying to work out who your mother might be or where you're from. I'm assuming Charles met your mother when he was at Harvard? But your accent isn't much different from ours."

I wasn't shocked Edward had questions. There were bound to be plenty more before everything was all said and done. "No. I was born right here in Virginia. Never left."

"Who's your mother?"

"Renee Higginbotham. Charles and her were never an item as far as I know."

"Well, they were together long enough to make you."

Edward was obviously a bold young man and our conversation was turning indecent fast. "I'm aware of that."

"What I should really be asking is why haven't you been around until now?"

Call it intuition, but I just knew I could be truthful with Edward. "That's the easy part. Charles didn't know about me. I believed another man was my father until two days ago."

Edward's face went frighteningly stoic. It made me nervous, like I'd said the wrong thing. "So you're the product of an affair?"

"What? No! They were teenagers. Charles went off to Harvard and my mother married another man before I was born."

"Hm. How old are you?"

"Sixteen. How old are you?"

"I'll be nineteen Thursday after next."

"I thought you might be older than that," I confessed, a little relieved he wasn't so far off from me.

"Sometimes I feel that way."

"Me too."

Edward surprised me when he took his plaid shirt from where it hung from his back pocket and spread it on the ground in offering to me so I wouldn't have to sit on the grass like he did. Something about his small act of kindness, that gentlemanly behavior, touched me so deeply I had to swallow the lump that formed in my throat.

"Are you really from one of the founding families?" I asked, eager to learn all I could about Edward and my new home.

He smirked. "Yes. So are you. The Swans are _the_ founding family, but the Cullens and Masens were there helping things along. It was my great-great-grandfather who came up with the idea to put up flags indicating Swan House was a smallpox hospital so troops would give it a wide berth during the Civil War. Everyone says that's how this beast of a house survived."

"Oh my, that's awful. Clever, too."

"Awfully clever," Edward said with a chuckle. "I come from a long line of lawyers who know how to convince the masses of damned near anything."

"That has to be better than not knowing like me. Not the Swans or my mama's side. All I know is my grandfather was nice - at least I think he was – and that he gardened here at one point. As for my grandmother, I don't anything about her other than her name was Luda Belle Jenkins. My mother never talked much about family."

"Why don't you sit her down and ask her?"

I was waiting to feel something awful with Edward's casual mention of Mama, but I was surprisingly calm. "She died a few... recently. She died recently." I didn't want to go into details.

Edward leaned back as the corners of his mouth turned down. "Shit," he muttered. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Apologies and condolences were such odd things to offer strangers in regards to the death of yet another stranger. Still, I appreciated Edward's acknowledgment. "It's fine."

"Anyway, I wonder how Charlie's going to introduce you to the town," Edward mused as he scratched along his chin. There was a slight shadow, like he'd be in need of a close shave soon.

"Well, I've agreed to attend church services with him tomorrow. Do you know what faith he is?" I'd forgotten to ask.

"He's catholic like the majority of us. Only other church in Sweetwater is a Lutheran one on the edge of town."

I hummed as worry crept in. I didn't know anything about Catholic churches. "Now I'm afraid I'll mess something up. What _do_ they do?"

"Paddle your bottom if you step out of line."

My eyes widened. "What?"

Edward's full lips pulled into a toothy smile. "My mother insisted I go to a Catholic school before I finished up at Sweetwater Prep. I was always stepping out of line and getting the paddle. I had one teacher who made us roll dice to decide how many swats we'd get. I'm the king of rolling double sixes, let me tell you."

I laughed. "Perhaps it's your own fault having to roll those dice to begin with."

"That's what I've been told. But don't worry about tomorrow. Just follow the lead for the most part. It's no big to-do."

"Will you be there?" I asked with hope he would be.

He whistled low. "I don't think so. I haven't set foot in St. John's since I was fifteen years old. I'll probably get struck with a lightning bolt or somethin', so it's for the best I stay away."

"You're silly. I understand, though. I can count on one hand the times I've been in a church to actually attend church."

"What do you mean?"

There's shame that comes along with poverty, but I had a feeling Edward wouldn't hold anything against me. "Sometimes, Mama and I had to get help with meals and clothes for me through the church."

"I reckon you won't have to worry about any of that now. Charlie's probably tickled to death to have someone to dote on."

"Does he prefer to be called Charlie or Charles?"

Edward shrugged. "He's always been Charlie to me. I've known him my whole life. My mother was friends with his sister way back when."

"Oh. Maybe she knew my mother. We didn't really get the chance to do much talking when I met her last night."

Confusion furrowed Edward's brows. "You met my mother?"

"Yes. Esme helped me pick out new clothes at her store," I said as I fiddled with the blue ribbon sewn around the hem of my dress.

"Gotcha. She isn't my mother. Elizabeth is. Esme was the other woman before she became my father's new wife," he said with an angry clench of his teeth.

I felt so awful for assuming anything about his family. "I'm so sorry. I just thought... I'm sorry."

Edward put his palm up to stop me. "It's alright. You wouldn't have known unlike everyone else around here. Going on pretending like nothing happened as if my mother wasn't discarded like yesterday's garbage. The only person left on her side after everything was me and Charlie's mother Eleanor. Charlie never gets in anyone else's business, so I couldn't hold anything against him either."

That explained why they seemed so close. It also explained why Edward was so nasty with his father in the garden. I wasn't completely oblivious to the ways of women and men, so I could see how he'd be angry. Divorce was an incredibly taboo topic no one liked to talk about. "Does she still live in Sweetwater?"

Edward shook his head. "She was pushed out. Friends she'd had for years stopped inviting her over and started to invite Esme instead. I'd visit her on the weekends in the cottage she rented and see how lonely she was. She lives in Norfolk now and waitresses at a diner. She seems happier."

He wasn't painting a very nice picture of the people of Sweetwater. "I'm glad she got away then."

"People with money, they have a habit of pretending the ugly or inconvenient parts don't exist. It's just... it's frustrating. They don't think about how their beds get made each morning, or how their meals turn up three times a day. They don't worry about how their yards stay mowed, or how their laundry appears fresh in the closet. It's disgusting how much power a check book holds."

"You think so?"

"I do. To be honest with you, I'll be inheriting an obscene amount of money myself on my next birthday and my father cannot stand that I haven't chosen a university to attend this fall," he said with a bitter grin. "What's the point? He doesn't understand. Burns his ass that his only child is over here doing manual labor. In his eyes, my sole purpose is to perpetuate the legacy of becoming like him just like he became his father and so on and so forth. Sick to death of it all."

His voice became quieter as he rambled on until he ended with a whisper. It's like he forgot I was there or maybe he was so used to no one listening that he assumed I wasn't. We may have grown up worlds apart, but we weren't so different, Edward and me. While I never had money and he had too much money, we both were in need of something that was just ours, that we alone worked for. I placed my hand on his knee and his eyes met mine, stormy and vulnerable. "What do you want to be?" I asked.

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn't manage to just then. "I don't know."

"You seem like a smart young man. I'm sure you'll come up with something eventually."

Edward moved to hold my hand in his. "You promise you're only sixteen?"

"Yes."

"You're very easy to talk to, Isabella," he said. "It's nice to be heard."

"I understand."

Edward cleared his throat and looked at the watch he wore on his left wrist. "I have to get going. I'm supposed to meet my mother for lunch. She hates when I'm late."

"Oh. You enjoy yourself, Edward."

"Will do. Would you like me to walk you back to the house?"

"No, thank you. I want to walk around a little more. Get familiar with everything around here."

Edward smiled. "Don't go gettin' lost. And steer clear of the work houses just beyond the orchard. Awful, awful people."

I would have taken him seriously if I hadn't caught the mischievous spark in his eyes. "You people aren't so bad," I teased.

It must have been the right thing to say. "Ha! You're right. I'll see you around, Isabella Swan."

"I hope so, Edward Cullen," I said to the trees. Edward was swift on his feet and already too far away to have heard me.

* * *

By eight-thirty the following morning, I was dressed up and looking as nice as I possibly could as Charles and I headed to church. What an imposing building St. John's was. The only church I'd ever been to was a whitewashed clapboard place where they held ice cream socials and the Independence Day picnic. St. John's loomed over the hill with its rosy bricks, gabled roof, and towering spire topped with a gold cross that glinted in the morning sunlight. Men, women, and children were dressed to impress as we were all ushered in, Charles and I two of the last people to enter.

It was humid inside and the varnished wood of the pews was sticky against my palms as I sat next to Charles in the back center row. The stained glass windows filtered in warm sunshine, lighting up the murals and tapestries and statues situated around the place. It was even more beautiful upfront where an altar and chair sat waiting for the priest. I tried not to be nervous and to just follow the lead like Edward said, but I wasn't feeling so sure as I looked around at all the ornate decorations and mass of people. Unfortunately, I noticed a whole lot of the people were looking right back at me, most of them turning to whisper to their companions who turned to look at me as well.

I sat with my best posture and smoothed my hand down my hair that was longer than everyone else's, nearly down to my waist. It was my security, a curtain to hide behind, and I'd gone and styled it back to look nice. Charles seemed completely oblivious to the attention we were getting as he read over the service program he'd picked up on our way in. That awful feeling was back, the tightening up in my chest that made my skin prickle with sweat. There were several girls who looked to be about my age who were clearly sizing me up, one of them a shockingly beautiful blonde girl arching her brow in my direction. I was used to girls not being so nice back home, so it wasn't bothering me too much, but it was the grown people who were making me the most uncomfortable. I was sure adults knew better than to stare, but I was obviously a topic of intrigue.

There I sat trying to decide how disappointed Charles would be if I bolted back to the car like some coward when my eyes caught with the sleepy, icy blues of Carlisle Cullen. He was looking at me so strangely... expectant, perhaps, and his gaze never wavered. My anxiety kicked up a notch as I sat locked in place, waiting for him to blink or turn away, but he never did. Instead, the doors behind me opened with a loud bang that caught everyone's attention, my own included. I twisted in my seat to see Edward walking in.

He was a welcome sight, not only as my tentative friend, but his beauty was unmatched. He knew it, too, and he wore that knowledge in the poise with which he walked. His smirk was there as he stared right back at everyone looking, his hair too long in the front so several pieces fell over his forehead. Good Lord, he looked like trouble dressed in black as he slid into the pew next to me, resting his arm easily across the back.

"Hey, Charlie," Edward whispered overtop my head.

"Hello, Edward," Charles answered without once looking up from that program. It must have been the most interesting read he'd had in awhile.

If I thought people were staring before, they were really staring with the prodigal son back in church and cozying up to the new girl in town. I lacked Edward's gall, but I could feel their curious stares that bore into us, leaving my cheeks hot with embarrassment. Edward must have known how I felt because he leaned down to my ear to speak reassurances, his breath tickling the side of my neck and making my stomach flutter the same way it did when we were in the orchard. "Don't worry about them lookin', Isabella. Everyone in this town was born bored to death with too much money and you're something new and exciting."

I looked up, his face so close to mine. "You think so?"

He did nothing to put any space between us. "I know so. Look at me. You got me in a suit without much trying. Decided I couldn't miss this for the world."

"It _is_ a nice suit. I'm glad you're here," I said with sincerity.

He ran his fingers down the inside of my wrist before squeezing my hand. "So am I."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Please keep in mind this story is set in the south in 1957.

* * *

 **In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Chapter Five**

 **Opening Doors**

I stayed close to Edward who walked directly behind Charles as we made our way outside. The good thing about sitting in the back was that we were also the first out of the church. Edward studiously ignored Carlisle and Esme as they came out, though I caught the look of longing on Esme's face as if she ached to talk to him. It was hard to think of her as being Carlisle's mistress at one point. The fact Charles referred to her as discreet when I met her certainly didn't help things. While a lot of people were staring, it seemed I would be spared any further introduction to the Sweetwater town folk. At least, that's what I thought before we all heard a shrill voice calling Charles' name.

Charles spun around and smiled, showing his teeth. It was different from the closed lips smiles he'd shared with me, the comfortable ones. If I didn't know any better I'd think he wasn't keen to speak with this woman. She was something else with her blonde hair, creamy complexion, and white dress. I worried for a moment that if she didn't stop leaning toward Charles her assets were going to spill right out of her low neckline. I doubted I'd ever have the nerve to dress like her, especially on a Sunday.

"Lillian Hale, how are you?" Charles asked.

"I'm quite well, Charles. And it's Lillian Crowley now," she said with fluttering eye lashes and a seductive smile on her saucy red lips.

"Oh yes. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," she said huskily as she toyed the glittering rope of diamonds around her neck.

As the two of them exchanged pleasantries, Edward leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Lillian Hale. A widow twice over. She's on husband number three and would probably poison his porridge to get him out of the way if Charlie ever showed interest."

"Edward!" I admonished in a hushed tone.

He shrugged. "It's the truth. Husband number two, Herman Hale, was her favorite so far and the father of her only daughter, Rosalie. Rosie's the one over there in the green dress."

I looked over to where he pointed and saw the girl from earlier who'd given me a once over chatting with a beautiful red haired girl. Rosalie had taken a page from her mother's book, statuesque and built like Marilyn. I doubted she had any shortage of would-be suitors. "Who's the girl she's talking to?"

"Katherine Talbot," Edward said with a shudder.

"Do you not like her?"

"If my father had his way, Kate and I would be engaged and off to university in a couple months."

"Oh," I said as I tried to understand the hot feeling that ballooned in my ribcage when Edward talked about Katherine. Or _Kate_.

"Isabella," Charles said, pulling my attention away from the beautiful girls across the way. "I'd like to introduce you to Lillian Hale – excuse me – Lillian Crowley."

"How do you do?" I asked and held out my hand.

Lillian stared down at it just long enough for me to feel awkward before she shook it briefly. "I'm doing swell, Isabella. And how about yourself?"

"Fine, thanks."

"My, my, Charlie, she does look like Marie."

Charles' face still had the strange pleasant yet detached look. "Marie and I shared the same coloring and all. It's not so far a stretch that my daughter would favor my side of the family."

It was comical the look on Lillian's face as Charles gave her the tidbit of information she'd so obviously come over to get. "Your daughter?" She asked, her voice a little high pitched as if she couldn't possibly have heard him correctly.

"Yes. My daughter."

"I had no idea. None of us did," she said as she stared at me.

Charles chuckled. "I guess I'll have to stop keeping my private life private for the sake of other people's conversations. You have a lovely rest of the day, Lillian. Come, Isabella. We have places to go. You too, Edward."

I almost felt sorry for Lillian, the way her face pinched and shoulders sagged when Charles effectively dismissed her like that. Almost. Edward was smiling and staring after Charles with something like awe in his eyes. He said, "A lot of people around town are afraid of Charlie. Thinks he's some ruthless tycoon with a temper."

"Really?" That surprised me considering how open and warm Charles had been as we navigated our newly forged relationship.

"Yes. He's always been private. No one understands why Charles Swan never took a wife."

To be honest, I'd wondered that myself. Charles was a handsome and wealthy man in his mid-thirties. Surely the thought to have a wife and family had occurred to him. From what I could tell, there was no love lost between my mother and him, so there was no good reason I was aware of that he'd be alone unless it was intentional.

"Anyway," Edward continued, "You can rest assured everyone will know about you by the end of today."

"Great. I'm looking forward to it," I said in a monotone that had Edward laughing.

Back at Swan House, Ms. Clearwater had prepared an early lunch of baked salmon and fresh salad greens that Charles, Edward, and I were getting ready to share.

"Isabella, this is Susanna Clearwater. Normally she wouldn't be here on a Sunday, but company is coming."

I didn't know many colored people, but there were several I saw who worked around Swan House, Ms. Clearwater being one of them. She was a beauty with bronze skin and eyes the color of bourbon, her jet black hair worn up in a neat chignon that put her fine features on display. "I'm happy to meet you. Charles has said nice things about you," I said, feeling shy for some reason.

"He better have," she quipped, her voice melodic and teasing. "I'm glad to meet you as well, Isabella. Please call me Sue. We're happy to have a new face around here."

"Yeah, everyone was asking me who the new girl is," Edward said to my surprise.

"Around the house?" I asked.

He nodded. "Rumor has it she doesn't like to wear shoes."

Everyone laughed at that, including me. "Speaking of rumors," Sue said as she tousled Edward's hair. "You'd do well to stay away from this one. It ain't a rumor that he's trouble."

Edward scoffed. "Hey, I resent that."

Sue put her hand on her hip and arched her brow. "You go on and resent the truth all you'd like."

Charles was smiling as he said, "Come on, you two. Would it kill you not to bicker?"

"Yes," the two said in unison, adding to Charles' and my amusement.

I felt the lightest I had all morning, but that lightness dimmed some by nerves when Rhodes came out to tell Charles his guest had arrived.

"That's my cue to exit," Sue said. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you, Isabella."

"You too," I said.

While Sue hurried back through the door that led to the kitchen, Charles turned to me. "Victoria Masen is the best private tutor in Sweetwater. I asked her to come so we can get you caught up."

"Okay," I said, silently hoping the meeting would go well.

"Aunt Vicky. My mother's older sister," Edward said before he took a sip of his tea.

Charles stood from his seat. "That's her now."

I looked over to the back parlor door where Rhodes ushered out a tall woman with broad shoulders and frizzy strawberry hair that grew in short, tight curls. She wore severe cat-eye shaped eyeglasses and a black chambray dress with a gray cardigan despite the heat. Victoria Masen was obviously a no-nonsense woman and I was beside myself with anxiety knowing I'd be spending any amount of time with her.

But then Edward leaned over and whispered, "Don't worry. She's nicer than she looks."

Grateful for the reassurance, I smiled up at him. "How did you know?"

He looked into my eyes and tapped my temple lightly. "I can read your mind."

I felt like shivering in my seat. "I'm really glad you can't actually do that."

Edward's left brow quirked up just as his smirk came back. He looked like I'd just presented him with the best kind of challenge and he was more than ready to meet it. "You sound so sure of yourself. I may not be able to read your mind, but I intend to learn everything I can about you."

I had to turn away from him after that, but not before I muttered, "Now who sounds sure of himself?"

"Isabella, I'd like you to meet Victoria Masen," Charles said as he led Edward's aunt over to me.

I stood up to greet her, but she said, "Oh, please don't get up on my account. This is a casual affair, is it not?"

"That it is. Please have a seat," Charles said and motioned to the chair beside his.

Lunch was a quick, pleasant affair – the best salmon I'd ever had in my life - but it didn't take long after for Victoria to get right down to business, jotting things down in a small black notebook she brought out from her purse. "What languages do you speak?" she asked me.

I looked up from my plate to see all three of them staring back at me. "English?"

"Hm," she murmured and wrote something down. "I'll be contacting your old school for transcripts to see how far along you are with sciences and mathematics. Our goal is to have you ready for university within two years. I'm a Wellesley girl myself. How are you with classic British literature?"

I felt like the dumbest fumbling fool as I wondered what books I'd read that were written by people from England and whether or not it made a lick of difference where an author was from. I could feel the color rising in my cheeks as my knees began to shake. Who was I kidding hoping the transition would be smooth? Luckily, I had an auburn-haired angel sitting next to me who cleared his throat, took my hand in his, and said, "I'm sure Isabella will blow you away with her comprehension of whatever literature you deem appropriate for her education, Aunt Vic."

Victoria peered up at us over the glasses perched on her nose. It was a sharp, inquisitive look similar to the one I noticed Charles was giving the two of us as well. "I have no doubts she'll be a quick study, nephew of mine."

Charles cleared his throat with his eyes trained on our joined hands. I brought mine back over to my lap, feeling like I was being chastised for allowing Edward to hold my hand. "Isabella, you said you liked to read. What's your favorite novel?"

"Oh, I don't know where to begin," I said as excitement bubbled in my chest. "I _loved_ Tolkien's _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. It was deeply imaginative and riveting all the way through. I was terribly glad I didn't find them until each had been published. Then there's Ray Bradbury whose work I enjoy. And Steinbeck! Can't forget him. That George Orwell novel that scared me to high heavens. _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ , it was called. Isaac Asimov. C.S. Lewis. There's too many to name, especially when I have favorite authors with whole catalogs of work I love."

"There's a difference between modern literature and classic literature. The things coming out this decade..." Victoria stopped to shake her head and scrunch her nose. "Surely they'll be forgotten in the years to come. Mark my words – the future won't care about hobbits and some magical wardrobe that transports children to a land called... I don't even remember."

"Narnia, you mean," I told her, taking offense to her dismissal of things I deeply enjoyed.

She waved her hand. "What of Austen? The Brontës? Thomas Hardy? Charles Dickens!"

"I do like Oliver Twist," Edward chimed in, amused by my and Victoria's conversation. "But I also got my hands on a book called _Catcher in the Rye_. I have to say, Aunt Vic, I have a feeling the future is going to care about that one."

"Controversial. It's becoming acceptable to be vulgar for the sake of art. Like that Ginsburg fellow and that awful thing he called a poem. If it was real art, it wouldn't be causing such a fuss," Victoria said with a sneer. I was fairly certain Victoria wasn't a mean woman, just that she liked things to be a certain way. I'd lived enough to know that change made some people very nervous.

Edward whistled low and mumbled, "Then you'd probably combust if I ever showed you my secret stash of Henry Miller."

"What's that?" Victoria asked him, not having heard what he said.

But before Edward could answer, not that he would have, Charles clapped his hands together and chuckled heartily. "It wasn't my intention to start another world war with my question, but I agree with Edward. My daughter is obviously an intelligent young woman and will catch up quickly."

"I know she will, Charlie," Victoria said as she smiled at me. It was genuine.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Charles sought me out from where I sat out back, lazing around watching the sky turn from sunshine to hazy gray. "Isabella, will you follow me to my office, please?" Charles asked me.

"Sure." I got up from the high backed white rocking chair I'd been sitting in. The air was heavy with humidity and there was no doubt a storm well on its way. I'd been outside alone most of the afternoon. Edward had to attend to some personal business and Victoria left soon after once we'd agreed on a schedule that would begin the following Wednesday. Three days a week, for six weeks, I'd be stuffed full of facts and figures so I had a fighting chance to keep my head above water once I began at Sweetwater Prep come September.

Charles' office was dark and masculine, the walls lined with shelves and wainscoting in a dark wood. A green marble fireplace sat off to the side with two brown leather chesterfield sofas facing each other. There was more artwork in here, a portrait of a man and woman with an infant in a christening gown.

"My parents and myself," Charles said.

The woman was wearing a black dress with long ropes of pearls and the man was in a gray tailored suit. It was done in a similar style to the rest of the portraits I'd seen despite their clothes being more modern. The man, he looked eternally happy with his large ears and smiling light eyes, but the woman looked cold with her long nose, pale skin, and lips shaped like my own, the top one slightly fuller than the bottom. If the artist got it right, her eyes were like mine as well – like Charles' – that blackened brown I'd learned to appreciate after all the years of wishing I'd inherited my mother's sunshine coloring.

"Make yourself comfortable." I looked away from the portrait to the two chairs in front of Charles' massive desk he sat behind.

"Is everything alright?" I asked as I took a seat.

"Yes, everything is going surprisingly well, but I'm afraid I have to leave for several days."

"Oh?"

Charles nodded. "I'm expanding my business to real estate out in California. I was supposed to leave yesterday for meetings, but I rescheduled what I could for tomorrow."

"That's a long way to travel," I commented.

"It is. I thought of having you accompany me, but I'll be in meetings the majority of the time and I don't want to disrupt your tutoring schedule. It wouldn't be much fun for you and I know you'll be busy with getting settled here. Finding a routine."

"It's fine."

Charles leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. He looked exhausted and I was once again reminded that this was a big adjustment for him too. "I feel terrible leaving you here alone so soon."

"Really, I'll be fine. Like you said, there's so much to do around here and so many people on the property to meet."

He didn't look convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I realize you're a busy man – you'd have to be to run all this – and I hope you don't think you need to hold my hand through everything," I reassured him.

"I've already learned that you're a very capable young woman. I'm... well, I've already missed out on a lot of time. It won't always be like this. I'd cancel if I could, but people have flown all the way from Europe to meet with me."

"I appreciate that. Your honesty. You have work to do and so do I come Wednesday. If you don't want me working an actual job then the least I can do is get top marks during my tutoring sessions," I said with a decisive nod of my head even as I wondered where all this bravado was coming from. "Perhaps I'll spend the next two days in the library so I can impress Victoria with my sudden grasp on classic British Literature when I see her next."

Charles was smiling one of his real smiles that crinkled his eyes at the corners. "That's the spirit. I'm scheduled to fly home Friday barring no complications arise."

"When do you leave?"

"I'll be leaving right after dinner. Sue has the week off for personal business, but Rhodes will be here should you need anything. I'll leave you with all my contact information as well as some money. Like I said, you're more than welcome to come and go. Rhodes would be happy to drive you anywhere."

"Maybe he'll give me a grand tour of this town."

"I think Edward might be better suited for that," Charles said with a grin. "Speaking of, if Edward should visit you while I'm gone, I would prefer that you two stay on the ground level of the house in common areas like the sitting room."

I coughed to try and hide the impact of my sudden embarrassment. "That won't be a problem, I assure you."

"Good, because I can see this subject makes you just as uncomfortable as it makes me. Glad that's settled."

* * *

Long after Charles had left with his suitcase in hand, I found myself drifting around the house in the quiet. Rhodes, while he was very kind, wasn't the type to talk much and I'd quickly given up trying to engage him further once he'd inquired about foods I liked. I knew there were staff in the house during the day, but it must have been a rule for them to not be seen or heard. They definitely weren't around so late at night, probably already tucked in their beds to be ready for an early rise. I hadn't even put on my bed clothes yet.

At the top of the grand staircase, I stood still as a statue and listened. Swan House felt like a living entity, like I could hear its lungs expand and contract. Its sturdy bones creaked and stood strong against the wind, keeping me safely tucked inside where I should have been sleeping like a babe in my bed, not drifting through the halls restless and wondering what the walls would say if they could talk. If I didn't know any better I would have thought Swan House was brimming with ghosts at every turn. With one hundred years of history and so much space, I wouldn't have been surprised to open one of the many doors lining the halls only to find my ancestors going on about their business. The thought of them still being in the house in some way felt more real than I did at the time.

Charles said I was welcome in every capacity, so he must have assumed I'd snoop around at some point. I knew his rooms weren't anywhere near mine and the house staff stayed on the lower levels, so I wouldn't run the risk of walking in on someone. Blowing out a breath, I opened the room nearest to my left. I was shocked how easily the cool bronze knob turned. I guess I assumed it would be locked or at least stiff from disuse, but no, the door swung open to reveal a bedroom. If I thought my room had priceless antiques, the room I walked into put mine to shame. It was kept clean as I could smell the faint scent of lemon oil on the freshly polished wood furniture and the linens looked as if they'd been recently laundered. Unlike my room, this one was missing a closet and attached bath. Instead, it had a massive wardrobe opposite the large tester bed. My curiosity appeased, I flipped off the light and closed the door behind me.

I had every intention of forcing myself to sleep when thunder clapped so loud the windows rattled. I swore storms worsened nearer the Atlantic. There was nothing soothing about it, no familiar sound of rain hitting the tin roof of the home I grew up in. My nervousness grew and I wondered just how wildly inappropriate it would be to go out in the mess to find Edward and make him sleep on the sofa in my room just so I wouldn't be alone.

I sighed and shook my head. There was nothing to fear and Charles had specifically asked me to keep Edward out of my room. Rhodes was probably sleeping right through the storm down in his quarters. I wasn't completely alone, but it sure felt like it. Maybe if I could stay awake until the sun began to rise, I'd be able to catch a couple hours of sleep. If only I'd held onto some of that bravado I had while speaking to Charles earlier.

Distraction. I needed a distraction and I soon found one in the form of the room directly across from mine. Unlike the others, the knob on this door was white, hand-painted porcelain which is what drew my attention in the first place. It stood out as if the room was special and as soon as I opened the door, it hit me just how special it was.

It was eerie when I flipped on the light and walked into a room that was too personalized to not belong to someone. There were china dolls with delicate faces and in elaborate dresses sitting upon built-in shelves on either side of the wide French doors that led to the same balcony as mine did. The white vanity was lined with an army of perfume bottles and old cosmetics, the seat with its lavender silk cushion still turned out as if the person this room belonged to had forgotten to push it back in after they used it last. There was even a white trolley set up with a fine tea set that matched the lavender and dark green color scheme of the room. Of course, they were empty, but it still felt like time had somehow stopped in this room. The space didn't seem to be cared for as frequently as the others. I could smell the stagnation in the air and the lavender of the curtains was yellowing around the edges. I had a feeling the lace trim would crumble in my hands if I touched it after having been left to greet the sun each day for Lord knows how long without being tended to.

I'm sure it was the storm and my mind playing tricks on me, but I suddenly felt like someone was watching me. It was a tickling at the back of my neck that made my chest seize up as I whirled around half expecting to see someone standing near the doorway. There was only the half opened door, the face of it painted white to match the rest of the room. What did disturb me was the set of faded pink house slippers just under the edge of the bed. I could see the dust in the rug and the cobwebs along the canopy of the bed frame. This room had to have been...

My eyes fell to a framed photograph on the nightstand. It was one of those slightly blurry sepia tone portraits that usually came in its own little folder covered by a thin layer of vellum. It had been professionally done, two girls backed up to each other with their arms crossed over their chests, smiling coyly for the camera. Gently, I picked up the frame so I could take a closer look at the young, carefree face of my mother and that of a girl who could only be my aunt. Unnerved I was seeing how Marie looked entirely too much like me.

 _I look just like her._

* * *

 **AN:** As always, thank you for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Chapter Six**

 **Much Ado About Nothing**

* * *

I awoke to an awful sound coming from somewhere down the hall. It took me a moment to realize it was a vacuum cleaner, a contraption I wasn't used to having around. If a rug needed cleaned back home, I put it over the porch railing and beat the dust out of it. The sky was darkened with steel gray clouds that left my usually bright room shadowy and foreboding. I shivered despite my uncomfortable warmth under the covers. Shoving said covers off me, I shot up out of bed when the clock face told me it was already halfway to ten in the morning. I'd told Rhodes I was usually up and ready around seven. I felt terrible knowing he probably had my breakfast ready and waiting, but I'd failed to show up anywhere near the time I said I would.

I made quick work of bathing, thankful I didn't need to wash my hair. I tied it back with a piece of ribbon to keep it out of my face and put on a pale blue dress. While I'd bought plenty of clothes at Esme's, I briefly wondered if girls around town wore the same thing twice. It seemed silly not to, but then again a lot of the ways of people in Sweetwater seemed silly.

As I left my room my eyes were drawn to the door across from mine. There was so much behind it, remnants of a life that left me curious for more. That photograph was proof my mother wasn't always a bitter soul roaming from one distraction to the next. Seeing her so bright and happy was a surprise. I guess I'd assumed she was always exactly as I'd known her to be. And Marie. It had to have been Marie's room. If I cut my hair to my shoulders and smiled, it'd be hard to tell us apart. Her nose was a little longer and less of the button nose my mother and I shared, but everything else was similar enough to give me pause. I was used to being the girl who would never be as beautiful as her tragic mother, but Marie had been just as beautiful as Mama. Like Charles had said to Lillian Hale, I sure favored his side of the family and I couldn't say I minded.

Fortunately, Rhodes had made blueberry muffins for breakfast, something that stood up to my late arrival. After I ate, there wasn't a whole lot left for me to do with my day besides further explore my new home. I wasn't much in the mood for reading, yet still I walked into Swan House's extensive library. From floor to ceiling, there were shelves filled with tomes, some modern and some obviously priceless antiques bound in leather with titles printed in fading gold leaf. Unlike the short, whitewashed shelves at the county library I was accustomed to, my family's library had at least three times the amount of books to choose from though I couldn't seem to grasp the filing system or if there was one to begin with.

Running my fingers absently along the spines of books, I lapped the library twice over, my mind wandering and unfocused. It wasn't until the darkening clouds let loose that I acknowledged the unease settling in my chest. I so badly wanted to have a good day, but being alone with my thoughts proved to be heavy as I watched rivulets of water gather and stream down the lead glass windows, distorting the view of the grounds below.

It was the strangest thing—out of nowhere I was struck with the thought of my bicycle back at home carelessly left out to rust. It was a possession, but it was one precious to me that had been my companion of sorts as I strived for a better life. I left what little I had behind and while Charles could surely buy me new and better bicycles a hundred times over, thinking of my old blue Schwinn left abandoned made me weep. My whole chest felt like it was caving in and my heart broke a little more as my thoughts randomly jumped to Phil and who would remember him. If I never went back to that house, eventually someone would come along and walk into that dilapidated structure to find all those broken perfume bottles and that sole family portrait of us tucked away in the bottom drawer. What would they think? That we'd been happy there in that squalor?

I pressed both my palms against the center of my chest to try to stop all those feelings. Grief was not a linear thing, but something that would wax and wane, circling round between periods of calm and heartache. It wasn't just for Mama. It was for the life I knew. My foundation was a lie and me feeling rootless was the scariest thing I'd ever faced. Everything about Charles and Swan House and even Sweetwater was a temptation, but I didn't want to lose me in the process of accepting the present.

I was pulled from my thoughts when someone knocked on the frame of the library door. "Hello. I hope you don't mind Rhodes told me where to find you," Edward said as he entered the room.

I turned away from him and tried my best to wipe under my eyes, aware of how red my cheeks and the tip of my nose got whenever I cried. Then I was turning red from embarrassment because I didn't want Edward to see me in such a state. Knowing I couldn't hide my moment of weakness, a fresh wave of tears hit me all over again.

"What's wrong?" His concern was warm and so were his arms when he pulled me into him. I shuddered on my exhale and leaned into his solid strength. I could feel his muscles flex and hear the thud of his heart as I pressed my cheek to his chest. I closed my eyes and all I could think of was that he smelled like fresh rain and the earthen scent of cut tobacco. It was light on him, something I'd noticed before, but he'd never smoked in front of me.

"Is it your mother?" Edward asked softly, his own cheek pressed to the top of my head.

"So many things," I said honestly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I wanted to tell him everything, spill my guts and have him tell me what I was feeling was perfectly fine. Instead, I shook my head the best I could in his embrace. "No. I don't even want to think about it."

"That's fine. Charlie suggested I take the day off so you and I could go out. The rainstorm's puttering out and I have a car. Would you like to go somewhere with me?"

I smiled despite the painful lump in my throat that made my voice husky. "I think I would."

"Good. See?" he said with a wave toward the window and the lessening rain. "Things are already looking up."

Edward drove one of the smallest cars I'd ever seen with two seats and a ragtop that was put up just in case. Glossy black on the outside with black leather interior, even I could admit it was a beautiful piece of machinery. My stomach swirled and I held onto my seat when Edward started up that engine and peeled out of the driveway, shifting gears practiced and smooth, reaching speeds outside the legal limit.

Edward must have noticed all my clutching and tensing because he chuckled and said, "You can put your safety belt on if you're worried."

"Maybe we both should," I suggested as I met the two pieces of the belt across my hips and fastened them in the middle.

"I know these roads like the back of my hand. I won't run us into a tree."

I got quiet after that. He wouldn't know how Mama died because I didn't say anything about it. Knowing he didn't mean any harm, I pushed thoughts of her from my mind and paid attention to my surroundings. Edward was driving up a winding hill, up past the church, and didn't stop until he parked on a small gravel patch lined with high brush at the edges. Nearly hidden was a green wood sign that had _Masen Landing_ painted across it in white.

"What is this place?" I asked when he led me out of his car and over to a small footpath.

"A little piece of my own history. My great grandfather on my mother's side, Maynard Masen III, donated this piece of land to Sweetwater. I'd hoped for better weather, but you'll be able to see most of Sweetwater from here," he said as we rounded the brush.

I gasped, seeing the whole town of Sweetwater laid out in its tidy, geometric glory. The gazebo at the park downtown, the main strip with its shops and restaurants, the bank and the three story courthouse. I could even see part of Swan House from where I stood holding hands with Edward. "And I thought the view from the church was nice."

"It is, but this is better. My mother's family, the Masens, had the most land. The Swans had the most money with all their businesses and investments. The Cullens and the Hales had political connections, and the Talbots had all the alcohol to wash down all the bullshit. Somehow, the five families came together to bring your great-great grandfather's vision to life," Edward said as he waved his hand toward the town sprawled out below us. "Now here we are, Miss Swan, the next generation. This is our world if we want it."

I stared at the valley below us, able to see the movement of expensive cars as people went on about their lives doing whatever it is people do. While the picture he painted for me was seductive, there was something lurking beneath Edward's words that sounded an awful lot like a warning. "I don't know what I want," I said honestly.

He smiled at me just as a ray of rogue sunshine broke through the clouds. "Neither do I, but I think I'm close to figuring it out."

* * *

Downtown Sweetwater was so different during the day, the Magnolia trees with their wide white blooms scenting the humid June air. In that silent moment where Edward looked over at me and smiled, I felt like I could go on forever riding alongside him. I wasn't sure if it was because he intrigued me enough to make me forget myself or if his presence calmed me, but I let out a contented sigh, my lips curling up at the edges as Edward pulled up to Mott's Diner. In days that already felt like a lifetime ago, I wished to visit such places with boys in pressed pants and slicked back hair. Little did I know the boy who'd take me out for a malt was a rebellious thing with unruly hair and blue jeans he cuffed at the hems.

"Of course she's here," Edward muttered.

"Who?"

"Rosalie Hale."

I recalled the name and the beautiful girl from church, the one friendly with the girl Edward's father wanted him to be with. "We don't have to come here," I said, pushing back my disappointment and something else that felt a lot like insecurity.

Edward's eyes narrowed as he looked me over, that smirk creeping up the longer he stared. "No, I want to be here. With you. It's complicated."

I shook my head. "If you tell me, maybe we can make sense of things," I offered.

He thrummed his long fingers against the top of his steering wheel. "I don't want people to get the wrong idea about you because of me."

I found that odd. "Perhaps I'm simple, but I'm not following what you mean."

Edward placed his hands in his lap and stared out the windshield. "I'm surprised this hadn't occurred to me until now," he muttered mostly to himself. "I wasn't always a good person, Isabella. These people knew me at my worst, especially Rosalie. I've made myself scarce for a long time now."

I saw that darkness in him I'd glimpsed before. It wrapped around him and made his shoulders slump and his eyes cold. "Well, it's only been several days since I had access to indoor plumbing, so people and circumstances can change, can't they? Besides, my father seems to think you're perfectly acceptable company."

Edward chuckled at that. "Fine point. Now what about plumbing?"

"Nothing. I was just saying people can change. If you don't want to see anyone, we don't have to come here. There's a big ole kitchen at Swan House brimming with food."

"No. I'm being ridiculous. I said I'd take you out for lunch and that's exactly what I intend to do," Edward said, his confidence back tenfold as he came around the front of his car and opened the passenger door for me. "Will you join me for lunch, Miss Swan?"

"Gladly," I answered and took his offered hand.

It was worse than church, walking into Mott's Diner with Edward's hand in mine. There was a jukebox in the corner playing Fats Domino and the chatter of patrons was an indiscernible hum in the background. The clanging of plates and utensils and the order bell all melded together into one big cacophony of sound. I was slightly overwhelmed, but that was nothing compared to the quietness that befell the restaurant when that Fats Domino record ended and everyone noticed Edward and I standing at the entrance. I took my cue from Edward and kept my chin up despite the death grip I had on his hand.

Edward seemed cool as a cucumber as he looked around for an empty table. None of that mattered when Rosalie Hale stood from the booth she sat at with Katherine Talbot and waved us over.

He started us toward them, but then hesitated. "Do you mind? We can sit alone if you'd like."

"No, it's fine," I said politely though I was all wound up inside. As we walked across that black and white tile floor to the red vinyl booth, I said to myself _better now than never_. I couldn't stay holed up in Swan House forever, ignoring everyone outside of church on Sundays.

"Hello, stranger," Rosalie said to Edward before she turned to me. "Isabella Swan, I presume? You met my mother after mass. My apologies. I'm Rosalie Hale."

I grinned. "It's lovely to meet you, Rosalie."

"You as well. This is my friend Katherine Talbot."

I looked at Katherine up close, her green blouse making her hair look like fire. She was no doubt beautiful, but there was something hard as steel in her light blue eyes. "Charmed," Katherine said and flicked her gaze over to Edward. "Hello, Edward. It's been too long."

I nearly blushed myself when Katherine plucked the cherry from atop her milkshake and circled her tongue around it before she bit it between her teeth, never once looking away from him. Edward's eyebrow rose for a moment before he turned away from her and guided me to the seat across from her and Rosalie.

 _Vixen_. If I had a word to describe Katherine Talbot, it would have been vixen. While it was proper for people to wait until marriage and to conduct themselves like ladies and gentlemen, I knew there were fast girls and those boys just as willing to tag along. I had a feeling Katherine was much faster than I ever thought about being. I may as well have been stuck in the mud as far as things like that went.

A waitress came over to take Edward's and my order—baked ham and cheese sandwiches with a side of coleslaw—and I answered all of Rosalie's questions as best I could as I watched Katherine watching Edward.

"You can imagine the shock when Charlie came to church with his long lost daughter. Well, we didn't know then, but the speculation was he'd finally decided to take a wife. He's known for being a man of few words, your father," Rose said before she sipped more of her chocolate malt.

Edward laughed. "She was walking around the garden late at night when I met her the first time. I asked her how long she'd been working at Swan House."

Rose cackled. "How embarrassing an assumption!"

"It ended on a high note, I think," Edward said as he looked down at me with a soft smile that forced me to look away lest I found my own embarrassment.

"I can't wait to see those gardens," Rose chimed in. "I think we're all beside ourselves to attend the centennial ball next month. Have you bought your dress yet?"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I didn't want to seem completely ignorant. "No. I haven't given it much thought."

"Mother and I travelled to New York last month and after three days, I finally decided on a red Christian Dior number."

"I'm having something custom made. Daddy imported the fabric I wanted from Paris. I have a personal seamstress at my disposal," she explained for my benefit.

I smiled, but it was becoming difficult. "I'm sure you'll look beautiful."

Her smile was as fake as mine felt. "You as well."

I avoided speaking with Katherine for the remainder of our lunch, but Rosalie held the table with hilarious stories about her betrothed, Douglas "Emmett" McCarty, who was in Richmond being a lackey at one of his father's law firms before he was to begin his sophomore year at Harvard in the fall. "I travel to Richmond every other weekend to spend time with him," she said as she lovingly caressed the diamond on her finger. "But he'll be home for the ball."

"I look forward to meeting him," I said to her as my attention was pulled to Katherine, who was slouched low in her seat, and to Edward who jumped slightly and turned toward me.

"The weather's not looking so good. I better get you home," Edward said quietly. "I'm going to take care of the bill. Sit tight?"

"I'll be fine."

Things were quiet at the table for several awkward moments, but Katherine leaned forward and took it upon herself to reach out and tug at the end of my hair I had over my shoulder. "How adorable. You're like a living, breathing Little Bo Peep," she said in a tone much too sugary to be sincere. "How ever do you manage all that hair? What do you think Rose—wouldn't you have a time? I'd be terrified of picking up lice with hair that long."

Shame hit me like a whip because, yes, I'd picked up lice once from a pair of sisters I befriended when I was young. Mama never let me go to their house again as we had a terrible time getting rid of it. While my mind scrambled to formulate a response to Katherine, she stood from the booth and said, "do excuse me," before she walked over to where Edward stood near the register. _More like sauntered_.

"Yes, excuse her. She's as uncouth as they come when she's jealous," Rosalie said as she lit a long white cigarette. She offered me one, the first cigarette I'd ever been offered, but I declined.

"I'm not sure I catch your meaning."

"Katherine. You have something she wants."

I frowned and shook my head. "I doubt I have anything she wants."

Rosalie blew her smoke out and smiled. "Isabella, I'm not sure if you're naive or playing your cards brilliantly, but just in case, I'll spell it out for you. You have Edward's attention. The kind you don't have to confess to your priest about on Tuesday evenings, and that's something Katherine never did get despite her best efforts."

Something about Rosalie's statement made my skin crawl. "It's not like that," I said as I chanced a glance over my shoulder. My stomach clenched uncomfortably when I saw Katherine and her simpering smile lean into Edward as they spoke to the man behind the counter. I couldn't tell if Edward was merely being a gentleman with that smile he gave her or if there was shared history between them I couldn't begin to imagine. All I knew for certain was Katherine being near him made me feel some kind of way and it wasn't in the least bit pleasant. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth and tried to keep my staring from becoming obvious, but Rosalie's sharp gaze tracked my every move. When she looked over to Edward and her friend then back to me, I could practically see the gears turning in her beautiful head.

"Well, well," she began as she smoothed down the front of her blouse and stamped out her cigarette. "I have to say I'm not surprised. He has a penchant for such things."

"Excuse me?"

"New things. Edward gets bored easily. I'm unaware of a time when he wasn't searching for something and I don't think anyone, not even Edward himself, knows what it is. Word of advice—and I do hope you realize I'm here to help, not hinder—Edward has a way of making someone feel special. Oh so special. It's only when you think you can trust it that he moves on to the next oh so special thing. You'd do well to mind your heart," she finished saying with a smooth smile. Rosalie was not only beautiful, but sophisticated in a way that took years of practice.

But I had years of hiding the deepest parts of me. "We're friends. Nothing more. He told me about Katherine and his father's desire for them to make a life together. Besides, I have too much to focus on right now what with acclimating to my new home and meeting with private tutors. I have plans to be a Wellesley girl," I lied smoothly, stealing a line from Victoria. "There's simply no time for me to entertain such things as romance right now."

Rosalie arched a brow, her smile still in place. Something told me she was impressed. "Perhaps you really are one of us. There's hope for you yet."

"Sorry that took so long," Edward said when he got back over to our booth, Katherine in tow. "I haven't spoken with Danny Mott in ages and didn't want to be rude. Are you ready to go?"

I looked up at him, those spring time green eyes of his full of warmth and sincerity and I hated myself for questioning how long his kindness, his interest, would last. It was a battle between what my gut was telling me to be true and the awful thoughts roaring in the back of my mind.

But none of it mattered, I decided. There was no doubt Rosalie knew Edward in a way I didn't, maybe Katherine did too, but I had a feeling I was getting to know Edward in my own special way. And who was I to worry myself over things that never concerned me? I knew he was kind and good and I saw his anger over how his father treated his mother. Edward didn't strike me as a hypocrite. Even in the unlikelihood of him someday breaking my heart—a farfetched notion—I trusted him to be gentle about it.

So I took his hand with a smile, allowing him to guide me out of my seat, but before we walked out of the diner I turned to Rosalie and said, "Thank you for the conversation, Miss Hale. Truly."

"You're very welcome, Miss Swan."

As Edward led me to the car, a knowing settled over me that Rosalie was going to be more friend than foe.

* * *

As soon as Edward parked us in the circular front drive of Swan House, the sky broke open without much warning. I yelped as the cold rain hit my overheated skin and Edward was right there beside me as we ran up the steps to take cover near the front entrance.

"That was close," I said, grateful I hadn't been soaked to the point of needing a fresh set of clothes.

"I should have brought an umbrella, but I thought we'd got lucky. My apologies."

I laughed. "It's just a little rain. Not like I'm made of sugar."

He leaned toward me and hooked his finger beneath one of the waves in my hair, his touch similar yet so very different from Katherine's. "Are you sure about that?"

My smile was involuntary as I tilted my head to brush my cheek with my shoulder. I kept on going and turned completely away from Edward and his perfect words, opening the door so we could go inside. I had a fleeting thought to end the afternoon, but I found I didn't want to be relieved of his company just yet.

Instead, we ended up in the parlor with Edward tuning an old radio to his favorite station out of Norfolk. "Have you ever gone dancing, Isabella?"

I shook my head. "No, I can't say I have."

"My friend Jasper, he runs this station. After my mother moved I'd go out looking for trouble and found art and music instead. So many people just like me. Jasper and I try to meet up once a month or so. Anyway, I don't know if you listen to rhythm and blues or rock and roll," he said excitably, "but it makes me think the world's about to change."

"Maybe it is."

"I hope so. There's so much wrong with this culture of sweeping things under the rug and pretending everything's fine and dandy. So many people are miserable or numb and sometimes I choke on the idea that I'm a part of the problem."

Edward's eyes simmered with all those frustrated thoughts of his and I fought the sudden urge to wrap my arms around him. The more he and I got to know each other, the more I was electrified by his ideas about the world. The beauty of being understood by someone had been lost on me until Edward came along. "I like the way you think."

He took my hand in his and twirled me around in the space in front of the radio. I laughed at my awkward, stumbling attempt at dancing, but Edward was graceful enough for the both of us. I was slammed back into my body and feeling every little thing when Edward placed his hand at my waist and moved his body close enough to mine that I could feel the heat coming off him. His smile was lazy and his eyes never left mine as he led the way, rocking us along to the familiar, unapologetic rhythm to All Shook Up. Edward's body knew and anticipated the beat, making things fun for me even as I stepped on his toes and giggled through it all. He was a good sport and kept his wincing to a minimum.

"Sorry about that. I told you I've never danced before."

"Don't worry about it. You don't weigh much."

He did make me feel delicate, maybe even beautiful, but that last thought had me feeling shy. The next song that played was a slow gospel tune. I'd never heard it before, but the woman's voice was sad and hopeful, a divergent state of being I knew all too well at that moment. I leaned into Edward until we weren't dancing at all anymore, but standing in the parlor together in each other's arms. I wanted to say so many things to him then, but nothing would come out. He must have known somehow when his broad palm and long fingers came up to gently cup my face, his thumb a whisper across my cheek. He was tender with me, his eyes as open wide and wondrous as my own. My heart was pounding away in my chest when his head dipped down and he brushed his lips so softly against mine I wasn't sure he'd done it.

I blinked, mentally not knowing how to respond, but my body sure did when Edward nudged his nose with mine and kissed me again, this time firm enough that it erased all my doubt. My fingers curled into his shirt collar and I pulled him in as close as we could get. It was a nervous euphoria like I'd never known as I burned right up when Edward made a sound in the back of his throat and brought his lips to mine once more. With his hands pressed firm to the small of my back, my breath left my lungs in a whoosh when I felt the velvet brush of his tongue against my own. Of all the hell I'd endured, I felt the heaven of being so close to Edward deep down in my soul. It would have been as effortless as breathing to lose myself in him and the good he offered.

The intensity of the moment struck me hard and deep, and before I knew it, I was pushing him away and taking deep breaths to collect myself. "Wait! I—we got carried away," I babbled, unable to look at him. No one had ever touched me like he did or affected me as easily and I knew just how unprepared I was for him. I finally understood in that moment how young people could get swept up and carried away by such things.

"I'm not sorry," Edward said and I could tell how much he meant it.

"Neither am I, but I think you should go," I replied although I ached for him to stay.

I heard him walk over to click off the radio that had started to play an upbeat tune that didn't match the mood between us at all. "Are you angry?"

I looked at him then, shocked he'd come to that conclusion. "No, Edward. That's the furthest thing from what I'm feeling."

"I don't know what it is about you. You're so different," he said and shook his head with a frustrated sigh.

"I'm nothing special," I said as Rosalie's words echoed through my mind.

"You are. I can be patient. I _should_ be patient," he added with a frown. "You've been through so much, but I forget. You make me forget a lot of things."

"You make me forget too."

He hugged me to him, the magnetism between us still present, but much calmer. "Tell me I should leave you alone."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know what I'm doing. I've never been in this situation."

"I haven't either," I said.

"My sights are set, Isabella. If I'm a fool for wanting this, let me know."

It was my turn to cup his cheek. He was so beautiful, his vulnerability making him less of a god and more a real flesh and blood man standing before me. "I don't find a thing about you foolish, Edward."

He smiled. "That's a start."

"Give me time?" I asked of him, because that's the one thing I needed in every aspect of my life with all the new things rolling in.

"I can do that," he said and kissed my cheek before he stepped away and brought out his charming manners. "Thank you for an incredible afternoon, Isabella. I'd love to do it again some time."

"I think I'd like that, too."

He tipped his head in my direction. "Good. I'll see you soon."

I sat down on the sofa after Edward left, letting the events of the day sink in. I laughed and couldn't stop laughing as I pressed my fingers to my lips, reliving the memory of Edward's kiss over and over again, feeling hot all over. I laid back on the cushions and stared up at the ceiling, the plaster a pale sky blue, and thought of Edward's words from earlier: _this is our world if we want it._

Did I want it?

An echoing knock sounded on the front door, the high ceilings making the booming sound carry. I hadn't seen Rhodes since I returned, so I took it upon myself to answer the door. I don't know who I expected—Victoria or maybe even Edward again—but when I opened the door, it wasn't anyone I knew, but a squat little man in a gray suit. I couldn't tell if he was damp from the rain or sweat. "Hello," I greeted him and wondered whether or not I should call for Rhodes.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'm from Magnolia Funeral Home here on instructions from Charles Swan to deliver this as soon as possible to a Miss Isabella Swan," he said as he gestured to the box tucked under his arm.

"That would be me."

"Oh, forgive me, Miss Swan," the man said as he bowed his head. When he stood up straight, he patted his forehead with a handkerchief. "It is my family's honor to have been chosen to take care of Ms. Higginbotham. I do hope you find her container pleasing. It's one of a kind."

My heart was pounding as I stared at the bronze container. I had to swallow despite my suddenly dry mouth as he placed it in my hands, a surprising weight and warm still from his body heat. "Thank you, Mr.—"

"Black. Mr. William Black," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Black. I appreciate what your family has done for mine." The words flowed out, but I wasn't sure what I was saying.

"You are most welcome, Miss Swan, and do accept my condolences. If there is anything else I can do, anything at all, please let me know."

"I will. Thank you again," I said on autopilot as I gently closed the front door. Any other time I'd worry my abruptness would be construed as impolite, but hopefully Mr. Black understood I had a maelstrom warring inside me. After all, his family's business consisted of dealings with death.

The bronze box had smooth sides, but the top bore a delicate pattern of roses and vines. Nestled in the center was a cameo of an angel with her head bowed in prayer. There was no denying the beauty of it, no expense had been spared, but I was made lightheaded by the weight of its contents. My mother, a whole person with wants and wishes and hurts, was reduced to this?

I stared at that cameo the whole way up to my bedroom. On my knees, I opened the bottom drawer where I'd stuffed the rest of her belongings. Instead of making space for the box, I pulled out that brown paper bag and grabbed Mama's purse. I swallowed back bile when I noticed a streak of dried blood along the bottom edge. It was a small amount, likely unnoticed by whoever retrieved it, but to me it was clear as a bell ringing in my head. I opened the top flap and spilled its contents onto the floor.

There were things I expected to see like a comb, an emery board, her favorite Revlon lipstick, and her precious green stamp booklet, but none of those things drew my attention the way her wallet did along with a small blue velvet pouch I'd never seen. Maybe it was the call of my stolen money, as little as it mattered, but I grabbed her wallet first. Her driver's license was there, the card with her name, height and weight, and date of birth. There was her checkbook from an account she never had any money in. When I opened the back compartment, I found my money. Ninety-six dollars of it. I'd forever wonder what the hell she spent nearly a hundred dollars on if she hadn't also stuffed a yellow, hand-written itinerary receipt in the same slot from Burrow and Sons Pawn Shop. After paying the interest on it every month for nearly a year, Mama paid back the eighty-five dollar loan in full to get something that was simply categorized as jewelry out of hock. I shook my head because Mama didn't own anything worth that kind of money. Her car had barely been worth that much.

I set the receipt aside and grabbed the blue velvet pouch, a name I couldn't begin to pronounce embroidered across the front, and took out what I assumed was the jewelry. It was jewelry all right. Diamonds, emeralds, and gold glittered in the overhead lights causing my breath to catch in my throat. Beautiful seemed an insufficient word to describe the brooch I held in my palm. Perhaps I would always wonder how Mama came to have something so fine in her possession, but in light of recent events, the fact the brooch was in the shape of a swan gave me an idea.

 **AN: You're still here? Thank you so very much.**


	7. Chapter 7

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Chapter Seven**

 **Talk Less, Listen More**

* * *

"This is for you, and this as well," Victoria said, all business as she plunked down two heavy books—one for algebra and other for world geography—on the table in front of me. A gorgeous day, we decided my first lesson would be held on the back veranda.

She looked over her clipboard and clicked her tongue. "Your education at your previous school was subpar. I hope you're ready to work hard this summer so you can transition into Sweetwater prep a prepared young woman."

I tapped one of my freshly sharpened no. 2 pencils, also courtesy of Victoria, against the notebook she'd brought with her for me to use. "I'll give it my best."

"Very well. Now, as I was building a plan for you, I decided I'd ask which language you'd like to learn. My recommendations are French as it is a popular choice for a girl of your social standing, or perhaps Latin."

"I could keep up with the priest on Sundays if I learned Latin."

"This is true. Is that what you prefer?"

"I trust you to decide. Something tells me I have far to go with learning English let alone a foreign language."

Victoria surprised me by laughing, a decidedly musical sound despite her stern appearance. "Oh, Isabella, I do believe we'll get along just fine. Now," she began, shifting gears and becoming stern once more. "I'd like to begin with a prayer and then we'll jump into mathematics."

I agreed, feeling like I'd need divine intervention to get through some of the equations I saw within those pages. It must have worked, though, because much like Frank did, Victoria said I had a knack for numbers. It all made better sense once I'd determined the order of operations. "Now apply that amount of vigor to this," Victoria said as she plunked down yet another book in front of me pulled from that endless canvas bag of hers, but this one was much smaller with a plain cover and no words along the spine.

"Wuthering Heights?" I said as I opened it up to the title page.

"Oh, yes. An invigorating read that runs the gamut of human emotion. I'd prefer you have it read by this time next week. Do you think you can manage that?"

I always made quick work of novels and knew I'd probably have it read much sooner. "No problem at all."

"Swell. Your grades in English are acceptable, but the fact you've never read works from any of the Brontë sisters shows me how far you have to go with the classics."

Of course. Victoria and her classics she had a fit over during our lunch with Edward and Charles. "I'm looking forward to the challenge," I said good naturedly, the pull of the sunny afternoon drawing my attention to the gardens. I was beginning to regret my decision to quit school. It made sense at the time, but in hindsight, I still ended up penniless in Sweetwater. To add insult to injury, I now had to meet with Victoria when I wanted to be roaming about.

"Iasbella!"

I jumped and glanced up at Victoria who was watching me like a hawk. "You seem distracted," she said.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking of reading in the garden."

"What a lovely idea," Victoria said with a sigh. "I used to do that very thing when I was young."

"You did?"

Victoria hesitated, peering at me over her glasses before she gave in. "I knew a man once who worked in these gardens during the depression. He was here for the summer and my sister and I, we were here all the time with Eleanor acting as our guardian while Papa was away. I haven't... I've not thought about Jamie in years."

There was a certain wistfulness in Victoria's voice that made me think of the kiss I shared with Edward. Somehow, I was sure my voice would sound similar if ever I told the tale. "A summer romance?" I asked, tentative and more than willing to change the subject from schooling. Maybe it was the heat or the heady scent of roses and honeysuckle on the breeze, but I wanted to hear her story.

She smiled despite her sad eyes. "Half a year. My sister, Edward's mother, she was Papa's little darling. The baby. I was the awkward older sister. All those common tropes you see, the kind, ugly sister and the cruel, beautiful sister, but it was my reality. At least I thought so"

I'd never seen Elizabeth, but if her son was any indication, I knew Victoria's perceived shortcomings weren't unfounded. And I knew that reality as well, only my mother was the cruel beauty whose shadow I walked in. "I understand."

"I appreciate that. Elizabeth caught the attention of whomever she pleased, young and beautiful as she was. I was contemplating taking a year between graduation and beginning my time at Wellesley to help care for our mother who was very sick at the time. Elizabeth looked just like Mother," Victoria added with a laugh and shake of her head. "I'd never caught anyone's attention while Liz had suitors lined up down the block."

"Edward looks like her, doesn't he?"

"He does. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He lacks her cruelty, though. There were times I worried he would follow in her footsteps, but he seems to have come around this past year or so. Liz didn't receive her comeuppance until the scandal broke."

"Carlisle and Esme."

"Yes. Esme, the gorgeous clothes designer from New Orleans who Liz personally paid to have brought up to Sweetwater to create a new spring wardrobe. Who knew she'd be using her inheritance to house her husband's mistress."

My eyes widened. I hadn't heard all that. "Oh. Well, that's something."

"Listen to me gossiping about old news. I shouldn't have said any of that," she said, clamming up.

"But what about Jamie?" I asked with hope she'd at least finish that part of her story.

"I met him here in the gardens as I sought out sanctuary from Liz and her colorful tongue. I believe she'd referred to me as a frizzy-haired horse-face that morning."

I gasped. "That's awful."

She waved her hand. "Normally I wouldn't have been bothered, but I was particularly sensitive that day for some reason. I thought I was alone with my tears and there Jamie was dressed in dirty overalls. He had the bluest eyes shining from beneath the brim of his cap. He was very plain spoken, Jamie. Guileless. He asked what a pretty rich girl like me had to cry about. I was so shocked to be spoken to like that I started to laugh."

"I can imagine."

"Every day after that I'd find myself wandering out here hoping to see Jamie or speak to him. He was, well, I guess one would call him simple. He was a hard worker and honest to a fault, but he was never going to be an intellectual. In the evenings when the weather was nice, we'd meet out here and I'd read to him. He was illiterate, you see, and I was helping him learn. He told me I'd make a good teacher," she said as her eyes shimmered with tears.

"From what I can tell you are," I said as I reached over and briefly squeezed her hand.

She nodded and composed herself. "He stayed on here through the winter as a groundskeeper. Helped man the front gate during parties. I'd kept him to myself until that Christmas party when he let it slip in front of Liz and our papa. Papa threw a fit and forbade me from ever seeing Jamie again. Liz made fun of me for loving a... a word I don't like to say because Jamie was never that word. I had just turned eighteen, but was still under Papa's rule. Eleanor fired Jamie that night despite it being Christmas Eve and I never saw him again."

My heart was broken for Victoria. "Thank you for telling me. I'm so sorry that happened to you."

She shrugged. "Some decisions are difficult. I learned long ago my parents would rather me be a childless schoolmarm than to have married below my station."

"It's hard to live our lives when there's an overwhelming presence lording over us," I said quietly, thinking of all the times I pushed myself aside to help Mama and how, no matter what, she still felt I owed her something.

"Jamie was from the same town as you are. Going back there to pick up your records must have stirred my memory. I'd been there once before when I took the bus to see if I could find him. His uncle was the only one left and he said Jamie took a train out west looking for work. I never heard a word about him again." She stood and began to gather her things. "You're very easy to talk to, Isabella. Too easy. I would greatly appreciate it if we never speak of this again."

"My lips are sealed. But for what it's worth, I'm glad you got to know him." If I never saw Edward again, I knew I wouldn't forget him. A mark had been left inside me already, the kind that wouldn't fade over time.

Victoria stopped what she was doing and looked me straight in the eye. "There are people in this town who would love to tear down a bright, beautiful girl like you. You weren't raised here and I believe you may be better off for it. Don't let anyone make you feel inferior, Isabella. You'll only grow to regret all the times you let someone steal your happiness when they never deserved one iota of your time to begin with."

* * *

"How awful," I said to myself with a shiver as I finished up the third chapter in Wuthering Heights and all its talk of ghosts. I closed the book and rolled over onto my back marveling at the thick softness of the grass beneath me. I'd worn navy Bermuda shorts that morning, the one pair I'd picked out at Esme's, and a navy and white sailor shirt that went with them. It felt nice to be wearing something other than dresses. Like usual, my shoes were in a heap next to me. I tilted my face toward the lowering sun that lit the wispy clouds in muted shades of gold and dusty blue. Everything looked shadowed and I wondered how many tales of love and heartbreak the gardens had seen over the years. Victoria and Jamie. My parents. Maybe even my long gone aunt Marie. Would they bear witness to my own?

I heard the soft padding of someone walking along the grass. I knew it was Edward before I turned toward the sound, a smile already spread across my face. He'd been working all day from what I could tell, a white undershirt the only thing beneath his own pair of dirty overalls. There was something wildly appealing seeing him in such a state, winding down from a hard day's work, and, if his answering grin was any indication, happy to see me.

"Hello, Edward," I said softly, taking him in with my gaze. He looked so tall above me as my eyes traced up his legs to his beautiful hands before I focused on the thick vein in his left forearm that ran up to the toned muscle of his bicep. I knew his shoulders were broad, but seeing them exposed was one of the most compelling sights I'd ever seen. From there, my gaze traveled to his face, catching his eyes and the fevered look in them that had me trapped in an instant.

"I like the way you look at me," he said, his voice deep and deliberate.

I licked my lips as I thought of the way he kissed me and how us being alone like this probably wouldn't do us a bit of good. Edward seemed to understand the war inside me because instead of lying next to me on that grass like I was beginning to imagine, he sat down near my feet, pulling one into his lap as he tickled the arch. That little bit of silliness and our laughter tempered the moment into something easier to bear than my sharp want of him.

"I missed you yesterday," he said as he pushed his thumbs into the arch of my foot.

"Hm. That's nice."

"The foot rub or me missing you?"

"Both, I guess. I missed you as well."

He seemed please with my admission. "I noticed Aunt Vic's car earlier. How did your lessons go?"

"Well, I think. My homework," I said as I picked up the book and showed it to him. "Wuthering Heights."

"Ah. I never could finish that one."

"I don't think it will end well," I said with my thoughts on Victoria's story. I wanted to discuss what I'd learned with Edward, but I promised Victoria I wouldn't speak of it again. It wasn't my story to tell and it was more than enough that a near stranger would entrust me with such personal information.

Edward wiggled one of my toes playfully. "Maybe it'll surprise you."

"I don't like surprises all that much. I like when things run smoothly."

"Not all surprises are bad," he countered, switching to my other foot.

"I know they aren't. I guess I haven't had many good ones. They've all been different levels of difficult."

"So hang on to the good ones. Tell me one?"

I thought about his question for several moments before the most obvious choice surfaced. "I won a bicycle in a contest. I remember filling out the entry form and thinking I wouldn't win because I didn't have a telephone number to write down. But two weeks later, Mama and I were sitting down to dinner when a truck came pulling up to our house. It was the owner of the shop with that bicycle in the back. I'd won and he knew enough about me and mama that he just brought it to me. I cherished that bicycle up until last week."

"What happened to it?"

I shook my head. "I left it behind when the sheriff came to bring me into the station."

"Why would he have to do that?"

"My mama was in an accident and no one knew about Charles. I'd just learned about him last Thursday. Mama died later that day in a car accident."

Edward had stopped and was looking at me with wide eyes. The sun was a smudge on the horizon casting Edward's face in troubled shadows. "Why didn't you tell me? God, Isabella. I thought you'd had more time. Are you doing all right?"

I sat up and took his hands in mine. "You have to understand, Edward. My mama was... she was a complicated woman. Didn't acknowledge my presence if she could help it. It wasn't all awful, but I'm beginning to see just how wrong Mama had been to me. I think if we'd been closer, I'd be more of a mess. Trust me, I've had my moments, but I finally feel like I can breathe, too. And I'm not sorry for that."

Edward scoffed. "It doesn't make sense. Why would she keep you from Charlie when he could have helped you out of that bad spot?"

"I don't know. Fear of his mother? I wish I could ask her all those questions, but I can't. Charles said he'd take care of everything. I guess I own that old house, as ramshackle as it is."

"Eleanor could be overwhelming, but she wasn't that bad. I was close to her when I was young. My mother and I spent a lot of time with her back then, before she got sick."

"She knew about me. Charles said she left me a trust."

Clearly confused, Edward said, "You're a goddamn mystery, Isabella."

I laughed at his choice of words. "I'm not the mystery. Everyone else is. What is that old saying—dead men tell no tales?"

"Something like that. I truly am sorry. I thought... I don't know what I thought."

"It really is all right, Edward. I won't lie to you about that."

Edward sighed and seemed to fixate on all the fireflies that were beginning to blink all around us. "May I walk you to the house, Isabella? I'm sure it's time for supper."

"Yes you may," I answered and allowed him to pull me to my feet.

"What about your shoes?"

"I'll carry them," I said, but Edward had already gathered them up along with my book and held out his free hand for me to take.

"Such a gentlemen," I commented.

He leaned over to kiss my forehead. "I hope you never have reason to see me any other way."

As soon as Edward and I stepped through the back kitchen entrance, we could hear the murmuring of voices. Edward sat my belongings on a side table and led me through the back hallway to the dining room where, to our surprise, and perhaps Edward's dismay, Charles, Carlisle, and Esme sat at the table having a smoke and a drink.

"Isabella!" Charles boomed with a smile. "I was wondering where you were. I was informed you were in the gardens and I didn't want to disrupt you."

"Hello," I said, fully aware of Edward standing stiff as a board beside me. "Rhodes said you'd be home tomorrow. I'm sorry I wasn't here to welcome you."

"That's quite all right. We finished up early and I wanted to get back."

"Did things go well?"

"They did indeed," he said, his mood lighter than I thought him capable. "I believe Esme here would like to speak with you about a few things."

I looked to Esme who was openly staring at Edward before she turned to me, distracted. "Yes, Carlisle and I accompanied Charlie. I took the liberty of picking out a wider wardrobe for you as well as an array of formal wear you'll be needing. Everything is being delivered to your room."

"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to do all that," I said feeling shy.

She smiled as she looked down to where my and Edward's hands were joined. "It was my pleasure."

Carlisle had noticed our handholding as well, but his gaze was heavier and more intense when I met his eyes. Would I ever not be unnerved by him? There was nothing strange about him, he'd been perfectly nice, but I felt like he was looking through me. Maybe it was the lawyer in him seeking out the truth in people, but I had a hard time being the subject of his scrutiny.

"I'm going to go," Edward whispered in my ear, clearly wanting to get out.

"Edward, may I speak with you for a moment?" Esme asked with that same raw look on her face that I'd seen on her at church.

"I worked all day. I need to get cleaned up," he answered, his ticking jaw giving him away.

I looked over to Charlie, feeling awkward about the possibility of the Cullens having it out in the dining room, and he just smiled and shrugged like the situation was commonplace.

"Isabella, I heard you began studying with Victoria Masen today. How was it?" Carlisle asked me, ignoring his son and his second wife who got up to follow Edward down the hall.

"Very well, thank you."

He laughed heartily and puffed on his cigar, looking dapper despite having traveled a long distance. "Serious little thing she is. You'll have to forgive her lack of humor."

"Then you'll have to excuse mine because I found her company entertaining."

His seraphic eyes narrowed a little and I could see that if we'd been anywhere else besides my father's house in my father's presence, Carlisle wouldn't have let me speak to him in such a way. A chill ran up my spine. "Hopefully you don't squander your opportunity at an education the way my son has. His rebellious nature may not be the best thing for you to be exposed to."

"Edward will find his way," Charles said calmly but with a finality even Carlisle couldn't contest.

Rhodes served us not long after that and the three of us ate, me quietly listening to Charlie and Carlisle speaking about some hotel deal in San Francisco they made. My attention was drawn to the hall wondering whether or not Esme and Edward would return before it became obvious I was waiting on them. Unfortunately, after a long enough wait that our plates had been cleared from the table, the only one to return was Esme and that was just to grab her purse and to say a rushed goodbye.

She'd been crying. I worried what state Edward was in.

Carlisle sighed and told her to wait for him in the car. "I see that son of mine has struck again. My apologies, Charlie."

Charles leaned back in his chair and sipped his drink. "All will be well in the end."

"Ha! I hope so. Thank you for dinner."

"You're always welcome."

Carlisle nodded in my direction before he followed Esme, leaving Charles and I alone. He turned to me and said, "Well, that turned out to be an eventful evening. Nothing like being witness to the trials of other families."

I had to chuckle at that. "There seems to be a lot of that around here."

"You'll notice that, Iasbella. People like to keep up their appearances, but they love to gossip."

"Do you?"

His lips twitched. "I'm more of a listener."

"I think I am too. I'm glad your trip went well."

"It went very well. I named a lowball price and the man agreed right away. Nothing better than a motivated seller."

"I wouldn't know."

He reached over to pat my shoulder. "Did you have a good time while I was away? I asked Edward if he'd show you around town."

"Yes and he did. I saw more of Sweetwater and we had lunch at Mott's with Rosalie Hale and Katherine Talbot," I said with a smile, thinking of the best part of our day that didn't require us to go anywhere after all. What happened after Edward left was a different story. "Mr. Black delivered Mama's ashes."

Charles nodded. "A message was left with my secretary. Are you all right?"

I was getting tired of answering that question. "I am. But I finally went through her belongings and I found something I wanted to ask you about," I said as I pulled the small velvet pouch from my pocket. I'd been carrying the brooch around with me since I discovered it, it's small size making it easy to do.

Charles sat up and took the pouch. "You said this was in your mother's things?"

"Yes. She pawned it several months ago and used the money she took from me to get it out. The receipt was with it. Burrow and Sons."

"She shouldn't have had this."

I nodded, somehow already knowing that. "It's a swan, so I thought maybe there was a connection. And it being so expensive."

"This was a gift from my father to my sister after her Confirmation. For her overcoat. Mother made a fuss about it because it was too precious a gift for a child. Burrow and Sons, you say?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to keep this if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I said, Charles' suddenly troubled appearance troubling me right along with him.

"Perhaps you'd like to go through your new things? I'm sure Esme will come over tomorrow once things have settled down."

I knew enough to realize Charles was asking for privacy. "That sounds like a fine idea. Goodnight, Charles. I'm glad you're home."

"I'm happy to be home. Goodnight to you as well, Isabella. I'll be in my office for awhile should you need anything."

I nodded and began to make my way up to my room. There was no sign of Edward anywhere, not that I expected there to be. If Esme was that upset, I imagined Edward was equally upset. At least in anger. There was obviously more to the story where Edward and Esme were concerned. I could only hope he'd eventually share the rest of it with me. It was plain to see there was much more than just resentment toward his father's new wife.

Halfway down the darkened hall, I was startled by the sound of a door opening behind me. I whipped around, my hand clutched to my chest. "Hello?" I called out, but I was only greeted with quiet. I backtracked several steps until I saw which door had opened. It wasn't open all the way, barely wide enough for me to slide inside. I had explored that very room days before, the one with the massive wardrobe and peach decor. After I turned on the light, I immediately noticed the lone window in the room was lifted slightly, probably forgotten by maids who tended to open the windows as they cleaned. The breeze was just enough it could have rattled the door. Satisfied with my explanation as to why the door had opened seemingly by itself, I closed the window down tight and left the room, making sure the door latched firm.

It wasn't until late that night as I was curled up asleep in my bed that my subconscious mashed up and distorted the events of the day. In my dream, it was Marie's door that opened, and opposite of that awful book Victoria had me reading, there were ghosts of girls in beautiful clothes begging to be let _out._

* * *

 **AN: Thank you for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Chapter Eight**

 **Ashes to Ashes**

* * *

Sitting at my vanity mindlessly brushing my hair, I stared at myself in the imperfect antique mirror. My eyes were bleary and bruised underneath from all the tossing and turning I'd done in the night. I awoke around four in the morning in a cold sweat with a racing heart. My dreams morphed from Marie's room to ghosts to Mama, aimlessly wandering around the earth because I failed to put her to rest properly. Chilled to the bone, I sat outside on my balcony and watched the sky as darkest night turned to the summertime chattering of early dawn.

I turned to stare at my closet door and wondered if I buried her ashes somewhere if the fog wrapped around me would lift. I didn't feel comfortable doing something like that at Swan House or anywhere in Sweetwater, but maybe if I took the rest of my money and took the bus back home, I could bury her there near the lilac bush she loved so much. After hours of trying to work everything out, it dawned on me _I_ needed that last bit of closure, not her.

From the clothes Esme had brought me—an obscene amount as I barely had any empty space left—I chose a simple pair of denim, high-waist capri pants and a short-sleeved, red and white gingham button down. After wrestling to tuck in the hem, I sat down at my vanity once more and played with the new cosmetics there. I don't know exactly what I set out to do, but after brushing on a little mascara from the cake and smearing on the reddest shade of lipstick I'd ever seen, I laughed at how ridiculous I looked. I didn't mind the mascara so much, but I looked like a clown ready for a show with that lipstick on. Unfortunately, it had stained my lips a deep pink shade that wouldn't come off no matter how hard I rubbed. Lesson learned.

Resigned to my unnaturally pink lips, I got the box of Mama's ashes out along with my money. I had no pockets, so I rolled up the bills and tucked them in my bra like I'd seen Mama do on occasion. Now all I had to figure out was what to carry the box of ashes in along with a shovel. Perhaps a big picnic basket would do, but then I worried someone might ask what a young girl was doing an hour away from home with a picnic basket full of ashes and a shovel.

With my plan a bust and my options limited, I hurried out of my room and down the stairs, thankful Charles hadn't yet come down for breakfast. I'd never been to the area of the property near the stables where Edward and other workers stayed. It was easy enough to find, though, but I wasn't sure which building Edward was in. There were men milling about, chatting, smoking, and some were even singing. One fellow was pumping water into a basin with a washboard propped in it, a pile of wash on the roughhewn table beside him.

I walked toward him. "Excuse me," I said to him."Do you know where I might find Edward Cullen?"

The man stood up, his significant height unfurling, and he smiled back. "Yes, ma'am. I'll get him." The man's idea of summoning Edward for me was a booming yell across the lawn. "Hey, white boy! Ya girl's here to see you!"

I snickered and was about to correct the man on the part about me being Edward's girl, but thought better of it when Edward came running out of the house, still pulling his white t-shirt down over the firm muscles of his abdomen. I couldn't say I minded being treated to that view after the night I'd had.

"Teddy," Edward addressed the man with a jerk of his chin.

"Eddie," Teddy said with an answering chin jerk.

Edward scowled. "I'd rather you call me white boy for the rest of my days than call me Eddie."

"What, you don't like rhymin' with me? Fair enough. And who might the missus be?"

"Isabella Swan," Edward answered.

"Swan, you say?" Teddy asked with a perplexed look directed at me.

"A lot's changed in the week you've been gone," Edward offered at the same time I said, "Charles is my father."

Teddy stood up straighter and bowed his head, losing the comfortable affability we'd all shared just a moment before. "My apologies, ma'am, I never knew Mr. Swan had children."

"In your defense, neither he nor I had any idea about each other until very recently."

Teddy nodded. "Again, I apologize for my behavior. If I'd known, I wouldn't have assumed anything with—" he trailed off and motioned toward Edward as an explanation.

"You're perfectly fine, Teddy. No need to apologize," I said with a kind smile.

Edward, with a hasty goodbye to Teddy, led me over to the tree line where we had more privacy. "This is a surprise," he said.

"I hope this all right."

"Of course it is," he said and gently tapped my mouth with his index finger. "What happened to your lips?"

I swatted his hand away. "Never you mind about that. I need a favor and I don't know who else to ask."

His answering smile was brilliant. "I'm happy you came to me, Isabella. What do you need?"

"A ride to my old house. And discretion, too, please," I said before remembering to add, "Oh, and a shovel for digging."

His brows dipped together. "A ride, a shovel, and discretion. What kind of trouble are you in?"

It dawned on me just how strange my request was. "No, I'm not in trouble. I want to bury my mother's ashes."

"Is that legal?"

The legality of what I wanted to do hadn't occurred to me. "Well, I'm unsure. Do you think it is?"

He rubbed his chin in thought before he shrugged. "If we were trying to bury a coffin, perhaps. How about I won't tell if you don't tell?"

"Deal," I said and put out my hand so we could shake on it.

Edward didn't hesitate. "Deal. I'll meet you out front in fifteen?"

"That's perfect," I said as I began my trek back to the house.

Before I got very far, he called out to me. "Hey, Isabella?"

I turned. "Yes?"

"I only asked about your lips because I've seen them that color before."

I was confused because I'd never worn lipstick in front of him. "Have you now?"

"After we kissed. They were that color after we kissed," he said with that sly grin of his.

I laughed and turned away, dismissing him and his mischievousness though his comment made my stomach flutter.

Back up in my room, I gathered everything I needed, wrapping up Mama's ashes in a small throw blanket I fished out of a cedar chest. I tucked the bundle under my arm and glanced at the clock, wondering if I'd run into Charles on my way down. I didn't want him to feel bad or as if he talked me into cremating Mama when I didn't want to. None of my reactions to her passing made much sense to me and there was no way to predict I'd need to put her in the ground to let go of the mess tangled up in my thoughts.

As my luck would have it, Charles was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking out the front window. "Good morning, Isabella. Is there a reason Edward's parked out front instead of fulfilling his work duties?" he asked me without looking away from the window.

I cleared my throat. "I, uh, well, that's my fault. I asked him if he'd show me Masen Landing on a sunny day and then we got to talking about the library in town and all the things I didn't get to see the other day. Would you like me to tell him this is a bad time?"

Charles turned to me then and I wasn't sure if he could tell I was lying or if he already trusted me. His closed face must have been an asset in board meetings and during negotiations, but in the murky waters of our newfound relationship, I was rattled by his stoicism. At least while I lied to him. "No. That's perfectly fine. I would like you to be home by four o'clock to meet with Carlisle and discuss a few things regarding my mother's will."

"I should be back long before then," I said aware it wasn't yet eight in the morning.

"Good. Would you like some breakfast before you go?"

I was too nervous to be hungry. "I'm fine. I think Edward mentioned getting food somewhere."

"You two seem to be getting along."

"We are. He's been a good friend."

Charles' left eyebrow ticked up. "Friend. Very well. I'm aware you had a certain amount of autonomy when you lived with your mother and I have no reason not to trust you to make good decisions. Or Edward, for that matter, but I ask you to please be responsible and conduct yourself with the decorum befit of a lady."

If Charles were to give me any kind of talk concerning the birds and the bees, I felt our conversation that morning was as close as he would get to such a thing. "Of course, Charles. I won't..." _I won't make the same mistakes you and Mama made._ "I won't let you down."

"Good. You two have fun. I'll see you this afternoon," he said before he walked into the dining room.

Out front, Edward popped his trunk where I placed Mama's ashes before settling into the passenger seat. "Do you have any idea how to get to Scuttle Creek?"

"Approximately. Is that where we're headed?"

"Yes," I said, staring out the window. More than anything, the day would be difficult because Edward would finally see with his own two eyes exactly where I came from. There would be no hiding from or minimizing or brushing off where I started out in life. I bet if the likes of Katherine Talbot saw the home I shared with Mama, I'd be blacklisted all over Sweetwater, the Swan name be damned.

We were well on our way to Scuttle Creek before Edward broke the tense silence between us. "You look nice today," he offered, surely in an effort to soften my brittle mood.

"Thank you. Esme knows clothing," I said before I remembered his explosive reactions to her.

He sighed. "I know she does."

"May I ask why you hate her so much? Besides the obvious reason."

Edward peered at me for a moment before he slumped his shoulders, one hand on the steering wheel and the other he brought up to rub against his chin. I noticed he needed to shave. "Esme was... I liked Esme. She lived in the carriage house on our property. I was always a bit of a creative and so was she with all her books and culture she was more than willing to share. We spent a lot of time together and she helped me through a rough patch when I wasn't making the best decisions. Propriety be damned, but she was my friend. One of my best friends. And I'm the one who caught them together. Her and my father. I'd pluck what I saw right out of my memory if I could."

"I'm sorry that happened, Edward. Maybe you could be friends again," I said and thought about how kind Esme had been to me. She just didn't strike me as a bad woman. Capable of a mistake that hurt people, but not inherently bad.

Edward shook his head. "She's a snake. I willingly told her everything she needed to know about the weaknesses between my parents and in their marriage. She used me." His voice was bitter and it was clear the conversation was over when he tuned in a radio station. It wasn't until houses began to crop up and the small downtown of Scuttle Creek loomed around the bend that Edward turned down the radio.

"So this is where you're from?"

"Yes," I answered. "There's the sheriff's station where Amos works. That little building there is the post office. Duke Wilkes and his wife Martha runs it. Very nice couple. I'd go in every month to pick up stamps to mail out bills. And there's the shop where I won my bicycle from. Ronald Ormond is the owner but everyone calls him Big Ron because he's very tall and heavyset. He tells people to call him that, so I don't think he's too upset about it," I rambled on as the strangest sense of excitement settled over me. Scuttle Creek was no Sweetwater, but it wasn't as terrible as I remembered it being. Perhaps getting away, as short as the time had been, had given me perspective.

Edward stopped at the intersection near the bakery Mama worked at and the tavern she'd play at. How convenient for her they were across the street from each other along with the bank where she'd cash her checks. Mama didn't have far to go at all to clock out and waste her money on gin and whiskey—she liked to switch things up every once in awhile.

"Where do I turn?" Edward asked, pulling me from my darkening thoughts.

"Left. That's the general store I worked at," I said and saw Beulah Carter sweeping the front stoop, a task that had been among my job duties. "Frank must have hired someone else."

"Would you like to stop in?"

Immediately I shook my head, unready to face Frank or anyone else in town. "No, I just want to get this over with. Charles wants me back at the house this afternoon to meet with your father. There's something we need to discuss regarding Eleanor's will."

"I'll be in the same boat next week. As much as he wishes he could, my father can't stop me from receiving what's mine."

"I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm so used to earning my way through life and now there's all this excess. Doesn't feel right sometimes."

"You'll get used to it," Edward proclaimed with a pat to my hand. "There's plenty of people our age in Sweetwater who'd have a conniption if they had to earn a living instead of being given one. Teddy, he gives me shit because it's no secret I'm the heir to both the Masen and Cullen fortunes. I'm my father's only child and Mother and Aunt Victoria received their inheritance years ago from their mother's side of the family."

"Victoria mentioned her parents briefly the other day. When did they pass?"

"Granny Masen died when I was young. She had cancer in her," he motioned to his chest in lieu of saying breasts, "but Pop Masen is still alive. He had a falling accident awhile back—bucked off a horse—and hasn't been the same since. He did regain the ability to walk after awhile. Well, it's more a shuffle really, but he's not all there up here," he said with a tap to his temple.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Edward shrugged. "He's all right. Ornery enough to run his nurses off every six months or so. I just feel sorry for Aunt Vic who has to deal with him. They moved out of the estate once it became too hard for him to get around in it. Got a nice place in town. Anyhow, do I keep going straight on this road?"

"Yes. It'll be the first driveway on your right once we get over the Scuttle Creek bridge up ahead."

I was a nervous wreck when Edward eased into the driveway and slowly drove around the bend, that rocky hill that blocked our house from being visible from the road. I stared straight ahead as Edward shut off the car's engine, afraid to look at him and see anything other than admiration for me reflected in his eyes. Downtown was a familiar comfort, but I don't know what I expected coming back to the house. That I'd suddenly like it? The grass was grossly overgrown, perfect to harbor snakes in. Mama threw out some mothballs not two weeks before after seeing a copperhead near the outhouse and I hoped they were still working.

Edward was the first to speak. "Is that your bicycle? The blue one?"

"It is."

"I'll go ahead and load it up for you. I got that shovel you wanted in the trunk."

"I know. I saw it. Thank you," I said, leaving him behind as I walked toward the house, the front steps bowed and weathered, the chipping paint a sad reminder that the people who'd lived here had given up. The front door, swollen from humidity, didn't want to open for me. I used my shoulder and it freed up with a groan, the smell inside an odd combination of cigarette smoke and cloying perfume. Dust motes swirled in the light spilling in from behind me, the house otherwise stagnant and still.

The one real utility we had, electricity, was shut off. I wasn't sure if it was because the bill was past due or Charles had it done. It was a good thing I'd finished off the perishables in the fridge beforehand, otherwise I'd be in for a stinking mess. I ran my fingers across the backs of the dining chairs, staring down at the liquor bottles, note, and the two dollars on the table exactly where I'd left them. They could stay there forever for all I cared. Inside the bedroom, just several steps away, I glanced at the broken perfume bottles and the strange stain one of the oils had left on the wood. It looked like a flower, rippled at the edges. The scent was fading some, but it still tickled my nose standing so close to the source.

"Disgusting," I murmured to myself.

For some reason, I felt the need to make the bed one last time. I took care to crease the flat sheet and tuck the edges tightly under the mattress before I did the same with the summer quilt. The brass bed frame was a terribly squeaky thing and as I smoothed the last pillow sham, I went into the closet and grabbed the broom and dust pan to clean up the broken glass I'd left.

With a loaded dust pan in hand, I stopped when I saw Edward standing near the kitchen table, Mama's crumpled note in his hand. His face was easily read, anger and hurt on my behalf. Most of all there was confusion there. Despite his father's shortcomings and the demise of his parents' marriage, I knew Edward had grown up loved. He didn't look up as I finished my task and put the broom away.

"Izzy?"

I nodded. "No one ever called me Isabella until I came to Sweetwater. It seemed like a good a chance as any to live up to my given name. Isabella Marie Dwyer. Or Swan, I mean."

Edward dropped the note on the table and quickly wrapped his arms around me, his lips pressed to the crown of my head. "You're kind and smart. Funny. She's the one who missed out on the great girl who was right in front of her the whole time."

I felt I might cry as his words washed over me. "You say the nicest things to me."

"But they're all true, Isabella."

"I believe you. I could say the same things about you, Edward," I said and cupped his cheek.

He closed his eyes and his lips turned down at the edges. "I want to be good. For you. I want to be good."

"You already are."

With his eyes opened, he kissed my forehead and stepped away from me, from the heaviness of the moment. "Do you know where you want me to dig?"

Focused, I motioned for him to follow me outside to where the lilac bush grew taller than me and Edward both, its dewy blossoms glistening in the morning sunlight. The scent was a strong memory for me, something good, and reminded me of playing around in the yard at a time when Mama wasn't so desperate to drink away her sorrows. There were curtains on the windows then and a checkered cloth on the table. If I thought hard enough, I could swear she made cookies with potatoes and molasses. It was around that time she planted the lilac bush, her own mama's favorite.

"What are you thinking about?"

I half-smiled at Edward. "Something good. I doubt you'll believe me, but there were good times."

"I think I have to believe there were. Otherwise, I wouldn't lift a finger for her," he said with a nod to the box that rested on the hood of his car. The shovel was propped against it and Edward grabbed it, easily sinking it into the earth near the lilac bush's roots. It'd been raining enough the ground wasn't dry as rocks. I watched him closely, the flex of his arms and the rippling along his back, my mouth going dry seeing him be so... so _useful_. He wiped his brow with the short sleeve of his shirt before he shoveled out a few more scoops.

"Is this deep enough, do you think?"

I knelt down with the box and placed it in the hole, a good foot left over. "Seems fine to me. Should we say a prayer or something? Do you know any?"

Edward bit his bottom lip. "The only prayer I really know that may be appropriate is Gloria Patri—Glory Be."

"All right," I said, unfamiliar with the prayer but nodding for him to continue as I plucked a few sprigs from the lilac bush to place atop the box of ashes. My eyes shot to Edward when he began the prayer in Latin, his flawless mouth forming the words, rolling his Rs and making the ancient language sound more beautiful than it already was. "...Saecula Saeculorum," he finished with a quick sign of the cross which I mimicked. Backwards.

I wasn't sure what else to do, but I bent down and grabbed a palm full of the dirt and tossed it atop the box and whispered what I hoped were the right words from the one funeral I could remember attending, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust."

We stood in silence for awhile, me watching the overgrown grass sway in the breeze, and Edward openly staring at me. "Do you need some alone time?" he finally asked.

"No. I've already said my goodbyes to her. I just needed to do this one last thing," I said, the sudden relief I felt palpable.

I reached over and took the shovel from Edward and made quick work of sealing the hole he'd dug out. With the grass stamped back over the area, I handed the shovel back to Edward and he placed it back in the trunk of his car. My bicycle was in there, too, and I remember thinking it was deceptively large to be able to fit so much.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I am. Just let me lock the door," I said, not that there was much for anyone to take. If some poor soul had a need for anything in that house, they were welcome to it. Regardless, I made sure all the windows were closed and gave everything one last look over before I walked back toward the door. At the very last minute, I ran back into the bedroom and grabbed that old portrait of me, Mama, and Phil. There was a lie in the picture, but it was one my life had been built upon. It would be up to me to remember them both.

Edward didn't say anything regarding the picture, but he did glance down at it several times as he began the drive back to Sweetwater.

"Thank you for your help today. I couldn't have done it without you."

"You're welcome, Isabella. I'm glad you trusted me with this."

I smiled at him. "Now how about you come sit with me while I have to speak to your father this afternoon."

He snorted. "I don't know about all that."

"He makes me nervous," I admitted with a shiver.

"It's his job to make people nervous."

"I know. It's silly."

Edward sighed. "I'll do it. If you really want me to."

I did want him to, but I didn't want to take advantage of his strange willingness to be there for me. "No, that's all right. Charles will be there, too. He may not want an audience discussing such things."

"Well, you can always tell my dear old dad to get lost. Hire your own lawyer who doesn't make you nervous."

I laughed. "I can't imagine having the means to hire anyone, let alone a lawyer."

"You won't have to imagine after today," Edward said as he sped past the Welcome to Sweetwater sign. "This is your home now and all the spoils that go with it."

 _The secrets, too,_ I thought, staring down at the black and white portrait sitting across my lap.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you for all the kind words last chapter, and thank you even more for reading :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**In the Land of Sweetwater**

 **Chapter Nine**

 **Lies**

* * *

"I don't know. I guess put it in the shed? There are sheds here, right? Of course there are. I've seen them," I rambled on. I'd lied to Charles in the hopes of not upsetting him not thinking how I'd explain my bicycle to him.

"Or you could just tell Charlie I asked where you were from and we decided to go see it for ourselves. I'll even tell him it was my idea. The way I see it, I was the one driving so you had no choice."

I stared at Edward with my mouth agape. "You would do that for me?"

"At this point I think I might have an easier time figuring out what I wouldn't do," he said, his tone hushed. "But tell him I was curious. That's it."

"I will if it comes up."

It was only one in the afternoon, but we were disrupted by Carlisle's car pulling in behind us. The most casual I'd ever seen him, he was wearing a bright blue cardigan over a white button down. He looked younger—I could see Edward in his face—and more approachable than I'd ever seen him. Perhaps Carlisle's mystique was all in the suits he wore.

"Ah, Isabella. Lovely to see you again so soon," he said cheerily and turned to Edward. "Hello, son."

Edward, studiously ignoring his father, turned to me and said, "I should get back to the workhouse. I told Teddy I'd help him oil saddles today. He shouldn't have to pick up my slack."

"Give him my apologies. I didn't mean to make things hard for him with my detour."

"He'll understand. I'll try to stop by this evening. Maybe tomorrow afternoon."

"All right. Thank you again."

Edward slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans and made a point to walk right past Carlisle on the way back to the driver's side of his car. As he drove away on the small service road, I was left with Carlisle who shrugged in response to his son.

"He always knew how to throw a tantrum."

I cleared my throat. "I wouldn't know."

"Walk with me, Isabella. I feel I haven't got to know you yet."

I wanted to tell Carlisle the last thing I wanted was for him to know anything about me, but keeping the peace seemed the wisest decision I could make. Because of that coupled with my guilt over lying to Charles, I began to walk with my father's friend. Carlisle seemed pleased, but I pretended I didn't see him when he held his elbow out for me to take, opting to walk slightly ahead of him.

"I see you and my son are becoming friendly. He needs every friend he can get."

"He seems to have plenty of friends. In fact, just the other day we had lunch with Rosalie Hale and Katherine Talbot. It was a lovely afternoon," I said, embellishing the situation. I couldn't explain why I felt protective of Edward, but it was an instinct.

"Katherine Talbot. I thought they'd end up together. They were inseparable for awhile. But as you'll learn soon enough, Edward has a mercurial nature unless he has a grudge to hold. Then you see that ugly, stubborn Masen in him come out."

Carlisle's smarmy smile made my stomach hurt. Even I knew the present is what mattered. "All right," I said coolly, keeping my gaze on the pavilion that was currently getting a fresh coat of white paint.

Carlisle noticed my staring and said, "The gala is a big to-do in Sweetwater. This year is special. A hundred years of history to celebrate with the Swans at the helm of festivities."

"I've heard."

"Isabella, I think you and I may have got off on the wrong foot. My son loves to demonize me, but I'm not the enemy here. I simply married someone for the right reasons. I don't expect you to understand that and I'm not sure why I felt the need to explain anything to you, but I can sense I make you uncomfortable and I'd prefer if we could be civil."

"I thought we were," I said and tamped down the urge to question him about things that were none of my business. Things about Edward and things about Esme. Maybe Elizabeth and Charles too.

He sighed and shook his head much like his son often did. "Perhaps we should walk back to the house. I'm sure Charles will want to jump right in now that everyone's here."

"You're probably right. I need to freshen up first," I said and tightened my arm down on the picture I'd had tucked under my arm the whole time.

"What's this?" Carlisle asked and took the picture before I could protest. "Ah, your mother. I remember her."

I didn't know what to say so I took the portrait back. I couldn't ask Edward to lie for me. I'd just have to tell Charles the truth. The more I thought about it, the sillier it seemed to make such a fuss over everything. I highly doubted Charles' anger or disappointment was anywhere near as harsh as Mama's.

"You know, we were friends all those years ago. The group of us."

"Makes sense," I replied, a war erupting between my discomfort with Carlisle and my hunger for knowledge. My curiosity won out. "You were already married when my mother came around, right? Edward will be nineteen soon."

"That I was. I was very young and Elizabeth was even younger. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, but people were kind enough not to say anything when Edward was born seven months after our wedding," he said with a smooth smile that gave me pause.

I looked away from him. "Actions tend to have consequences. I guess you have to decide if they're worth the headache."

Carlisle chuckled. "You remind me of her. Marie. She wasn't meant for this place. If her life hadn't been as brief as it was, she would have been on Broadway or in the pictures, I'm sure."

"I don't know about all that. I prefer not to make a spectacle of myself."

Our conversation lulled after that as we walked back to the house. We were almost to the back parlor doors when Sue came rushing out of the butler's entrance with a smoking casserole dish in her hand.

"Excuse me," I said to Carlisle as I walked away from him. "Sue!" I called, happy to see her. "Do you need help?"

She smiled at me. "Oh no, Miss Isabella. Time got away from me is all. This one was meant for the birds," she said of the peach cobbler that was blackened and bubbling at the edges.

"I didn't know you were home."

She nodded. "Got off the train this morning. I go see my family every June in Cincinnati."

"I hope it was a good trip."

"Oh, it was extra special this year. My son and his wife informed me I'll be a grandmother come January."

"I had no idea you had a son. You don't look old enough at all to be a grandmother."

Her smile is brilliant. "Why thank you, Miss Isabella. My Seth is my best accomplishment. I raised him all by myself and he's a good man. Hard-working, God-fearing, and kind."

I wanted to press and learn even more about her, but I didn't want to be rude. "He sounds like someone to be proud of. I'm glad to have you back, though. It was a... quiet week," I said with a shiver as I thought about the way Swan House came alive when I was alone.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm supposed to meet with Charles and Carlisle soon. Edward and I just got back from Scuttle Creek," I said, the truth an easier slip than the lie I had prepared.

"I noticed. It's nice to see you two so friendly. That boy could use a real friend and something tells me you could use one as well."

There was no stopping the blush that stained my cheeks. "He's great."

"I don't know about all that, but there are worse," she said with an arched brow and silly smirk.

"Ma'am," Rhodes said with a slight curtsy as he stepped outside the door. His thin voice was always a surprise to me each time I heard him speak. "Your father would like you to join him in his office."

"Yes, I'll be on my way in a few minutes," I answered him and turned back to Sue. "I'll see you again soon."

"You go on now."

I ran up to my bedroom as quickly as possible to put away the picture and wash my hands and face before I met with Charles and Carlisle. My legs were burning with exertion by the time I made it back to Charles' office. I took a few moments to collect myself and catch my breath before I knocked on and opened the door.

"Isabella, good to see you home. I worried you'd forget to check the time."

"Oh, no, I've been home awhile now," I said with a cursory glance at Carlisle. It was obvious he hadn't mentioned our chat to Charles. "I ran into Sue."

Charles' smiled wide enough a dimple appeared on his right cheek the same place as my own. "Yes, she told me all about her trip earlier. Did you have a nice morning?"

"I did. I, well, Edward and I ended up at my old house. I got my bicycle. It didn't occur to me that you might be upset about it until afterward, so I'm sorry," I rushed the truth out.

Charles' smile never wavered. "Why would I be upset? The place belongs to you. Carlisle sent someone to shore up the tax lien on it earlier this week. The land is actually worth a nice penny. It was left to you after Phil's death, so your mother couldn't sell it or I'm sure she would have."

I took a seat on the chesterfield nearest where Charles sat at his desk. "I wasn't aware it was mine."

"You also have several oil stocks courtesy of Phillip. They weren't worth much during the Depression, but they were very smart investments. Again, your mother couldn't touch them."

"He probably knew she was terrible with such things," I mumbled. "What does all this mean?"

"Like I just told your father," Carlisle began, "I'm tempted to believe you were born with your very own angel looking out for you."

"I'd beg to differ, Mr. Cullen," I said with my chin jutted high.

"You misunderstand me, Isabella. You may have had a rough start, but you have not a thing to worry about from this day forward. You're nearly a millionaire just from the oil stocks alone. Bona fide several times over with your Swan inheritance."

I felt woozy at the thought of so many figures. The way of the world that I knew was one had to earn her way through life. Words like _millionaire_ were for people who weren't me. "What's the point?"

Both Charles and Carlisle exchanged a glance before Charles asked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not a scholar or one of those ladies who lunch. I don't even know if I'll be any good at philanthropy. What's the point in having all this?"

"She's Marie all over again," Carlisle said quietly with a look of awe and dare I say respect coloring his features.

"She is," Charles agreed.

After that, I was given lots of information, but no real answer to my question. The oil stocks Phillip had purchased? Had he lived through the war, we would have been a well-off family. Charles tried to explain about dividends and automatic reinvestment and why he suggested I keep letting my money work for me, but I didn't quite grasp what he was telling me. I told him I trusted his judgment. The money left to me from my grandmother was a large enough sum that it made my mouth dry and my stomach flutter. Not only that, it was only a quarter of it. I'd get another quarter after graduation, another after two years of college, and the rest when I turned twenty-five or married, whichever came first. With my freshly printed check book—Isabella Swan on the header—I sat on that sofa and tried to soak it all in. With the rest in savings and bonds, it was up to me to manage the monthly allowance Charles and I agreed on. His offer was more than generous, more than I made in a month working for Frank.

"Now that this is settled, you'll have to excuse me. I have a charity dinner to attend with my wife this evening."

"Of course. Thank you, Carlisle."

"You're welcome, Charlie. Isabella," he said with a nod in my direction before leaving Charles and I to ourselves.

The ticking clock near the fireplace was particularly loud as I sat still. I assumed Charles would dismiss me as we'd gone over everything thoroughly, but he surprised me when he said, "We need to talk, Isabella."

Worry gripped me as I held Charles' stoic gaze. "Concerning?"

From the drawer on the left side of his desk, he pulled the swan-shaped brooch out and placed it on his blotter. "I wanted to be sure before I said anything, but I'm at a loss. I expect you to be honest with me."

"Of course, Charles."

His eyes bore into mine, liquid and black. This wasn't the warm Charles I'd come to know, but the shrewd and ruthless Charles who was all business. I fought to keep myself from shrinking back. "Do you recall ever seeing my mother before you came here?"

I shook my head. "No. I have a feeling I'd remember her. Why?"

"Because I'm confused, Isabella. The day after I learned of Marie's death, I arrived home. Naturally, I was grief-stricken and I spent a time in her bedroom. This brooch was among her things, pinned to her old coat. I remember staring at it, everything frozen in place from the last time Marie had been in there. It hit me that she'd never touch any of her things again, a very profound thought that revolved around this particular pin."

I didn't know how to respond. He continued, "Imagine my surprise going into Marie's room this morning only to find the brooch missing from her coat. I knew it was the same, but I had to see it for myself."

"I wish I had an answer for you, Charles."

"As do I. I keep Marie's room locked and have since after her death. The only other key from mine was the one my mother had. Now I'm in possession of that one as well."

My face scrunched and I was about to tell him that no, it wasn't always locked because I'd been in it myself, but something kept my mouth shut about that. "It had to have been Eleanor then. I swear I have no memories of her," I said which was the truth.

"I believe you, Isabella. I just feel there's more to the story here. Something I won't like."

"So what do we do?" I asked him, ready to figure out how my mother came to have the brooch.

Charles finally smiled again. "I reckon we start poking around."

"And how do we do that?"

"We ask questions."

It seemed simple enough. "Right, but who do we ask?"

"That's the easy part. We start with the Masens."

* * *

 **AN: I know, I know.** **Thanks for reading.**


End file.
